Little Lady Blinder
by hb.writes
Summary: Clara has always exceeded expectations in the role of little sister. With a childhood characterized by her fitting every mold and unquestionably mirroring her closest loved ones' actions and desires, the Shelby family is left unprepared for all that accompanies a girl growing up and becoming the young lady.
1. A Piece of Work

**A Piece of Work**

 _1919_

Clara could hear a commotion out on the lane and she knew it would be her brothers making their way towards the Shelby home. Being early morning, the betting shop wasn't yet open and the house had been nearly silent for an hour or more. The only noise came from a few Blinders already in the shop and the quiet conversation taking place between the Shelby twins who were sitting at a table just beyond the shop doors.

"Fuckin' Tommy!"

Her eldest brother's voice boomed, reverberating as it traveled to Clara and Finn. The sound carried through the wood of the front door and the whole of 6 Watery Lane's front parlor before it reached Clara's ears. She flinched at the words themselves but more so at Arthur's tone. She could nearly see him spitting as he shouted but Clara knew that was only her imagination.

Arthur was nearly always shouting and it was usually about something Tommy had done. While she was used to it, the shouting about Tommy, that didn't make it any easier to digest. And while Clara loved with her whole being that the boys were home, she had to admit that there had been a whole lot less shouting when it was just her twin, sister, and aunt.

Despite their hearing Arthur making a fuss outside, both kids smiled when John and Arthur came through to the dining room. Cross as Arthur could be with Tommy, he didn't ever take it out on the kids. Finn and Clara knew that. Arthur ruffled Finn's hair before moving to place a kiss on Clara's hairline, his mustache tickling her as she pushed him away, giggling.

Arthur and Clara watched the other two engrossed in a hushed conversation, mischievous smiles on their faces. John was well on his way to corrupting his younger brother and not a single member of the family had much to say or do about discouraging it. Shaking his head at the younger Shelby boys, Arthur turned his attention back to his sister.

"Where's Aunt Pol, princess?"

"She went down to the church."

"And our Ada?"

Clara shrugged, returning her attention to John and Finn. She knew very well that Ada was with Freddie Thorne. She knew that her sister had stayed the night with him like she did up to four nights each week but Clara possessed enough sense to not tell her brother that. Before the boys came home, Ada had explained to Clara the importance of the Shelby girls sticking together. Clara had every intention of upholding that sisterly responsibility.

"And Tommy?"

Arthur already knew exactly where his younger brother had whiled away the early morning hours. He heard all about it on his way over to the shop, impressive considering Arthur lived just a few doors down from number 6.

Again, Clara shrugged her shoulders. "We had breakfast and he left. I think he had an appointment."

"Okay," he conceded. "Okay, Clara girl."

Arthur didn't believe his sister knew any more beyond that. Still brandishing the sweet, rounded cheeks of childhood and brilliant, shining eyes, Clara was the baby. To Arthur, sweet and innocent was just about all he'd considered she ever could be.

"New book?" Arthur nodded towards the red hardcover in her hands.

Clara smiled up at him, keeping the book flat in her lap.

Arthur's face brightened as he clasped a hand on Clara's shoulder. "That's our brilliant girl, always reading, best marks in the fucking class."

"Well, someone had to give us Shelbys a good name at that school," John commented. "We all know Finn isn't."

None of the Shelbys before her had been very accomplished in making a good name for the family, not in the academic sense. Arthur had made an effort but wasn't scholastically inclined. Tommy had possessed the mind but had done only the work he wanted. John had been willfully resistant to the idea of learning. Ada had been exclusively uninterested in books and math, mostly concerned with boys and gossip. Finn simply struggled to keep up in school. He typically quit before giving things much of a chance. It didn't help that Finn had a twin sister more than willing to "help" with assignments so the two of them could get on to playing a bit sooner. That left academic success to Clara as she possessed both the mind and the willingness to try, as well as an interest in anything new to her.

After the boys made their way into the shop, Clara heard Arthur continue his complaining to John and anyone else who would listen. He was grumbling about Tommy doing the Chinese trick with the horse. Arthur pushed the men for more information but none of them had much to say as they hadn't known a thing about it. And though Clara knew more than a thing or two about it, she kept her mouth shut and continued with her reading from the spot beside the fire.

Tommy had told Clara about his plans that morning over breakfast. She hadn't known that her brother was testing her when he said he had a secret she wasn't to share with the others. Tommy was already relatively confident that he could trust Clara. Even at ten years old, the girl possessed far more cleverness than the rest of his siblings put together and with a fair level of consistency, Clara had proven herself to be dependable, almost to a fault. Even though she couldn't always be trusted to do exactly as instructed, Tommy knew he could trust his Clara with a secret just meant for the two of them.

As Arthur continued complaining about Tommy's actions that morning, and then about Tommy in a more general sense, Clara resolved to stay out of it, favoring the company of her book. Finn seemed oblivious to the complaining though and he was always gravitating towards their brothers, shadowing them whenever he could manage.

Clara wasn't one for heading into the shop these days anyhow, not since Tommy had declared that an illegal betting shop was no place for a pair of ten-year-old children. She had never truly liked the shop or being around all the pushy men making bets anyhow. Clara had liked the numbers and being a help, contributing to the family, but Tommy had taken away the work and supported her interest in books and school instead. While Clara wanted little to do with the potential trouble that came with disobeying her brother, Finn still routinely pushed the boundary when he could get away with it. But as no one other than Tommy made much of a fuss if the kids made their way into the shop, Finn edged his way through the doors left open by Arthur and John. No one said a word as he made his way about the shop.

* * *

The young Shelby twins had technically always been banned from stepping foot inside the shop, a rule which had been forgotten during the war and reinstated almost immediately upon the boys' return. The day after coming home, Tommy had descended the stairs after a night of fruitless sleep to find Clara standing on a stool in the shop. She wrote out the names and odds for the upcoming race on the chalkboard in near-perfect penmanship while Finn held the list up so she could see.

"What're ya doing in the shop, eh?"

"Working," Clara answered casually, never once stopping with her work.

"You've got school."

"Yeah, but we gotta get the shop ready and—"

"You've got school. Let's go."

Tommy held out his hand and waved them over.

Finn dropped the paper on the nearest desk but stayed there watching the exchange between him and his sister. Clara made the hint of a whining noise, something that wasn't committing to an open rebellion but when combined with the look Tommy saw pass over her face, showed she was actively considering it.

"But the list—"

"John'll do it."

"But Finn and I do the lists. It's our responsibility."

"Not anymore. Your responsibility is school and doing what you're told. Now, come down off the stool," he said, watching as she contemplated his order.

"But it's still early."

Tommy smiled to himself for a moment. The twins weren't used to him anymore, he knew that. He and Arthur and John weren't the authority. They were nearly strangers. They were the long lost brothers the kids wrote letters to, the brothers they remembered through photographs and stories and fuzzy memories. He had work to do in reestablishing the way of things. Tommy fixed her with a look, effective even though he was across the room.

"I don't think either of us will like it if I have to say it again."

Tommy watched while something shifted in her and she climbed down off the stool. He waited, remaining patient while the twins walked across the room slower than he had seen them move since they were merely toddling around the parlor.

When the twins stopped in front of him, Tommy bent down to meet their eyes. "You forget who's in charge around here, eh?"

"Aunt Polly's in charge," Clara answered. "She said just 'cause you boys come home doesn't mean we don't have to listen to her anymore."

"Well, she's right about that. You always listen to Aunt Pol," Tommy answered, looking between both twins before he settled his eyes on Clara. "And now you've got a whole house of family to tell you what to do. We'll talk about the new way of things on the way to school, eh?" he said.

"But we don't need an adult. We walk to school on our own, Tommy," Finn said.

Tommy hummed. "What do you think, Clara?"

"Aunt Polly lets us go to school on our own. We're big now, Tommy."

"Bigger than when we left, I suppose. I'll walk you today so you can show me how big you've gotten, figure out what other trouble Aunt Polly's been letting you two get up to."

"If we say yes, can we stop by to see the horses?"

"The yard's not on the way."

"It's kind of on the way. And we're early. And we haven't seen Uncle Charlie in ages."

Tommy looked at them both. "You two still like seeing the horses?"

Clara and Finn nodded.

"We got a new filly. I've named her Lavender. I've been helping Curly train her."

Tommy nodded. The kids had been busy during the war, working at the shop and helping out at the yard, traipsing through the streets of Birmingham without an escort.

"Do you help too?" he asked, looking at Finn.

Finn shrugged. "I do the racing. I'm probably faster than you now."

"You're not faster than Tommy. You're not even faster than me."

"I am so!" Finn shouted.

"It's not just about racing a horse."

"You have to know your horse, take care of her, respect her, right Tommy?" she asked, not bothering to wait on an answer. "Finn doesn't take care of his horses, just races them."

Even being unsure of Tommy and unsure of the prospect of changing rules, Clara had already fit her hand inside of his. "I can introduce you to Lavender."

Tommy nodded. "Alright, horses and rules then."

* * *

Finn didn't come back to his sister's company until nearly half an hour later when one of the men forced him out of the shop just before opening. He had somehow managed to get a cigarette while in the shop and got to work lighting it as soon as he sat down.

"You're not supposed to be smoking," Clara said, barely pulling her eyes from the page.

"Well, Tommy said you're not to be reading his books," Finn answered. "You're too little."

Clara wondered how Finn even knew that the book belonged to Tommy. She had snuck in and out of the room right after her older brother left that morning, while Finn had still been fast asleep in his bed. Plus, Finn could barely read, so she knew he hadn't recognized the title.

"I'm not too little. I'm already in chapter two and I just started it today," she answered, letting the silence settle between them until Finn got the cigarette lit.

Clara placed the book on the table, picking at the skin around her fingernails. "Arthur's awful mad at Tommy still?" she finally asked.

"Tommy's fixed a race," Finn answered in such a tone that it sounded as though he knew precisely what he was talking about and he didn't approve. Finn took a deep puff of the cigarette before holding it out for his sister to try. She sucked on the rolled-up paper, feeling the smoldering warmth fill her lungs before Finn suddenly yanked it from her lips. Clara scowled at him before a cough forced itself from her chest.

"You breathed in too much, silly," Finn said, shaking his head.

"You scared me," she answered. "Let me try again."

"No, smoking's not for little girls anyway."

"I'm not a—"

Clara heard their brother's voice outside the door before he had opened it all the way. In the short moment the twins had before Tommy came inside, Finn tossed his cigarette towards the fire, and Clara slid the book she was reading out of view, just beneath the table.

"Arthur's mad as hell," Finn offered, a weak attempt at distraction that did little to divert Tommy. His gaze swept over his youngest siblings. He had already taken in the whole room, cataloging the twins' various indiscretions despite not revealing any immediate indication of having done so.

"He is, Tommy. He was shouting for all Watery Lane to hear," Clara chimed in.

Tommy nodded his head. "What do a couple of ten-year-olds know about hell?" he asked, picking up the cigarette butt and tossing it into the flames after presenting it to both kids.

"I'm eleven Sunday. Maybe Clara doesn't know a thing, but I do." Finn delivered a smirk in Clara's direction and Tommy's eyes followed.

"And I turn eleven on Monday. You're barely any bigger than me, Finn."

"You're still the baby."

"Tell him I'm not, Tommy."

Clara stuck her tongue out at Finn and he swiftly returned the favor.

Finn fought hard to maintain his place in the pecking order. Although they were twins, Finn was older by somewhere in the vicinity of a few hours. Their births had spanned two days, with Finn being born late at night and Clara being born in the early hours of the next morning. They had never shared an actual birthday and Finn hadn't let her forget her station since the days following birthday number four.

"Enough of that, you two," Tommy chided as he tapped Finn over the head with his cap. "What have you got there, Clara?"

Tommy raised an eyebrow as he looked to her, waiting for the answer.

"Nothing," she answered, setting the book on her chair before sitting on top of it.

A sly smile briefly touched Tommy's lips. He took two steps across the room and pulled the girl up in his arms. Tommy settled his sister on his hip, a spot she was nearly too big to be occupying, and he picked up the book in the process, briefly glancing at the title. He waited for Clara to meet his eyes. "What have I told you about reading my books?"

Instead of answering, Clara placed her arms around Tommy's neck, clammy fingers interlocking where his shirt collar met his skin. She took the opportunity to nuzzle against her brother's chest, hiding her face as the dark blonde waves fell over her arms.

"Tommy," she whined into the fabric of his suit.

"Clara," he echoed.

Tommy set his sister down with her feet on the chair before him. They stood almost eye to eye but Clara settled her gaze elsewhere on the curling edge of the carpet. Tommy waited with an eerie calmness Clara had come to associate with trouble. Under his intense scrutiny and the prolonged silence, she felt a near-immediate compulsion to fill the quiet, to give Tommy whatever he wanted.

"But I finished every book in the house and we haven't gotten another."

Clara stomped her foot, sending the stool into a wobble which would have ended with her on the floor if it weren't for Tommy steadying her. He used the book to tap her backside, nothing more than a warning to get her attention.

Finn snickered but a glance from both Tommy and Clara quieted him.

"It isn't fair, Thomas," she said.

"I'm Thomas, now, am I?" he said, setting the book down on the table. She watched the book leave his hand before continuing.

"Yes, _Thomas_. It's not fair. Finn was smoking a cigarette and saying bad words and teasing and going into the shop and he didn't get in trouble and I got punished just for reading. You let him get away with everything and me with nothing, _Thomas_."

Tommy suspected that his younger sister had picked up calling him "Thomas" from their aunt. When Polly was displeased, a similarly aggrieved tone and his full name came from her lips as well. Out of respect for the girl, Tommy didn't laugh though it amused him to see the display of force from his sister.

"You were smoking, too," Finn's indignant voice broke through the quiet that settled in while Clara and Tommy stared at one another.

Clara's face shifted and she narrowed her eyes at her twin. Tommy cleared his throat to regain her attention. "The two of you aren't meant to be telling on one another. You're meant to stick together. That's what we do in this family."

Finn nodded once before looking back to the fire and Tommy turned to Clara. "And I hold you to a higher standard than the rest of them. You're smarter than your brother and you're a proper lady, not a Peaky Blinder. And no one here's getting punished."

Clara considered his inquisition and his accusatory tone to be akin to punishment.

"It still isn't fair, Tommy," she answered, pouting.

He ran a hand through her hair, stopping to place his palm on her cheek.

"The world often isn't, Clara." Tommy picked the book up, holding it out to her. "Put this back and we'll get you another later today."

"Can I pick it out myself?"

"Can you behave yourself for the rest of the day?"

"Of course," she said.

"No more smoking, no sneaking into the shop, no fighting," Tommy said, glancing at Finn as well.

Clara nodded eagerly, holding out her hand.

"Then it looks like we have a deal, Miss Shelby," he said, shaking the little hand.

Clara leaned forward, kissing him on the cheek.

"Thank you, Mr. Shelby," she answered, hopping off the stool with the book in her arms and running up the stairs.

Tommy glanced at Finn, taking a deep breath. "Sisters, eh Finn?"

The boy shook his head, rolling his eyes. "She's a piece of work, she is," Finn answered, having frequently heard his twin sister described as such.

"That she is," Tommy agreed before making his way into the shop.


	2. Just a Phase

**Just a Phase**

 _1919_

Tommy spotted the youngest of his siblings walking at an arduous pace down Watery Lane, tucked under the scrawny arm of Isiah Jesus. The Reverend's boy was a few years older than the twins but he accepted them anyhow, not that Isiah had had much of a choice in the matter. Clara and Finn had long ago taken to following the older boy around the neighborhood whether he had wanted it or not.

Isiah was already fourteen and old enough to know that he should treat Clara Shelby well even when her twin brother teased, taunted, or ignored her. He was clever enough to know that the Shelbys expected that their sister would be taken care of by those who knew her. They had an expectation that she would be watched over and protected, which was why Isiah had been insistent on walking her home when Finn decided that the rest of the boys were going to play by the cut.

 _"You want to deal with them if something happens to her?"_ Isiah asked when Finn insisted they just leave her to find her own way home.

Finn shrugged, kicking at a rock on the ground. His sister was already making her way toward Watery Lane by herself, not even looking back at them once she had been told to go home.

 _"That's why girls should just stay at home to begin with."_

Isiah raised an eyebrow at Finn's remark, his body already half-turned to follow after Clara. He glanced at her now. Clara stopped and sent a fierce look towards Finn. Isiah took a step away from him.

"Go on ahead. I'll catch up," he said.

Clara half-heartedly fought Isiah when he slowed beside her. She pushed his arm away, insisting she was no longer a child in need of an escort. Isiah sighed as he took his hand away from her slumped shoulders, watching as she shoved her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

"I'd feel better knowing you got home safe," he said.

"Why do you care?"

As Clara looked up to him now, her voice elevated and her height suddenly seemed an inch or so taller.

"Because Mr. Shelby'll have my arse and Finn's and probably yours too if something bad ever happened to you."

"I can take care of myself, Isiah."

"I know that, but your brothers don't. And anyway, you're meant to tell me about that new book you've been reading."

"Tommy took it away," she said, bowing her head. "And he told me to go play but now Finn won't let me."

When Isiah placed an arm around her shoulders a second time, Clara's small frame slumped and she allowed him to lead the way. She wasn't paying attention to Isiah, simply allowing him to lead her towards home as she became lost in thought.

"Chin up, Clara. Let's see one of those brilliant smiles of yours, eh?"

She shook her head. "Just let it be, Siah."

"You know he's just showin' off," Isiah offered as he watched her stare down at her feet, eyebrows knitted in frustration.

"Well, that's foolish and I don't think I much like him anymore. I don't much like any of them."

Isiah stayed quiet. He was an only child and had never experienced any of the difficulties the Shelbys did. There were six Shelby kids and Isiah had learned from afar that brothers and sisters were an overwhelmingly messy business. He mostly found he didn't mind that it was just him and his father at home.

Clara envied Isiah that quiet home life and it wasn't out of the ordinary to find her visiting Isiah and the Reverend when she wanted a break from her siblings. Clara quite liked the Reverend and the thought of having a papa. She couldn't remember much of her father, but watching Isiah with the Reverend helped paint a picture of what may have been.

"You don't mean it."

"I do. You're a better brother than Finn is, Siah."

"I'm not your brother, Clara. You've got more than enough of 'em without me. Four of 'em. And if I was your brother you'd have to do what I tell ya and you never do."

Clara gave him a perfunctory shove in the side before returning to the repetitious yet seemingly all-consuming act of scuffing her boots on the dirty cobblestones.

"And don't you worry about Finn. It's just a phase," Isiah said.

She let the idea settle in her mind. Clara often took what Isiah said to heart because he was older and she considered him to be pretty smart as far as boys go. She knew Isiah wasn't as smart as Tommy, but she knew he was smarter than Finn, maybe smarter than Arthur and John on some things too. And even though Isiah teased her from time to time, he had a long history of looking out for Clara's interests.

Tommy had been on his way to the pub for a drink when he saw the pair making their way down the street. From afar Tommy had watched Clara scuffing her new black boots in the dirt as Isiah guided her along.

"What's _just a phase_?" he asked, stepping up to the pair as he lit a cigarette.

Isiah dropped his arm from Clara's shoulders and for a moment both kids stared at the same patch of muddy cobblestone. Despite the closeness of their families and the level of privilege Isiah had shared with the Shelbys since the war, Tommy Shelby still unsettled him. Isiah had been privy to too much of what the Shelby men were capable of to ever feel truly comfortable.

Tommy took a puff and raised an eyebrow.

Isiah cleared his throat, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. "I was just walking her home, Mr. Shelby, sir."

Tommy nodded. "Thank you, Isiah. I've got it from here."

Isiah nodded once and muttered a hurried goodbye before taking his leave, running with long legs back towards the cut.

Tommy looked down at his sister as Isiah turned the corner, pulling the cigarette from his mouth as Clara resumed the comprehensive examination of her feet.

"You finished playing with the boys?"

Clara shrugged.

"What were you and Isiah talking about?"

"Nothing," she answered.

"Mhmm," Tommy mumbled as he took a drag. "Isiah's right, Clara. Finn's just going through a phase but if he's not treating you right, you tell someone and we'll set the boy straight."

"Finn didn't do anything," she insisted.

"Is that right?" he asked.

Clara nodded though it wasn't particularly convincing.

"Well, have you held up your end of the deal, Miss Shelby?" he asked.

Tommy had set out with every intention of just going to the Garrison and having a drink. He had made a mental note to take Clara to get a book another day but seeing her now he figured the drink could wait.

Clara had all but forgotten about the deal made hours earlier, a lost thought after an afternoon running about with the boys. At its mention, Clara grabbed Tommy's hand, pulling on his arm in the direction of the book shop.

"I've been good all day like you said. Even when Finn was being mean. Are we going now?"

"I thought you told me Finn didn't do anything?" Tommy said, pulling her back to him.

"He was only a little mean."

"I see, only a little mean, eh? Then he doesn't need a talking to?"

"No!" she answered almost too quickly for Tommy's liking.

He supposed that Finn did need a talking to but Clara didn't want it to be on her account.

"Alright then, but no more lying. If I've asked something, you tell me the truth, is that understood?"

Clara nodded, not liking that by protecting Finn she was the one getting chastised.

"Alright. Off we go then, Clara girl."

He nodded in the direction of the shop and Clara set off at a brisk pace, tugging at the hand she was still holding.

"Slow down," he said, smiling as she pulled against him.

"But the shop closes at five and it's already past four."

Clara's body made a steep angle with the ground as she leaned away from Tommy's firmly rooted form.

"We have plenty of time and I'll not have you running wild through the streets."

Clara scoffed, standing herself up straight and reluctantly waiting for Tommy to set their pace.

"So, what did you get up to this afternoon?" he asked.

"I just had to follow the boys around since you took my book away," she answered.

Tommy watched as she continued to scuff her boots. He should have chided her on Pol's behalf but he let it go.

" _My_ book?" Tommy said, squeezing the little hand inside his so that she looked up to him.

"Well, _your_ book," she corrected.

Tommy nodded. "Better. So, you were off with the boys all day?"

"Until Finn said they were going to the cut and I cou—" she grumbled, stopping herself when she realized that Tommy had deceived her into telling him things she hadn't meant to.

Tommy let out a puff of smoke and Clara stopped walking. He could spot the signs of his sister preparing to give him an earful. The signs were small, like the way she shifted her weight back on one foot, bending the knee of the other, preparing to stomp. It was in the way those skinny arms pulled tight across her chest. Then there was the look that always took over her face when she was overthinking something, knitted brows, and the hint of a scowl.

"Why can't I go play by the cut like Finn? Or help you in the shop? Or go out like Ada? Or—?"

Tommy elected to stop her before she got started on the mentally itemized list of things she wasn't allowed to do.

"I don't ever want you going out as our Ada does," he said, not hiding the bit of laughter that came with it. "You're a respectable lady, Clara. And the family business isn't for little ladies either for that matter."

As for trusting Finn to watch over their sister while they played by the cut, Tommy couldn't be so sure of that. Isiah Jesus had been right. The kid was going through a phase, pushing his twin sister away, frequently putting her down, especially in front of his horde of friends. Tommy supposed he had done similarly to Ada at that age. But Small Heath was different now and it wasn't safe for a little girl to go play without someone watching over her. Tommy wished that she could just accept things for the way they were but Clara was looking up at him with arms folded even tighter across her chest.

"Aunt Polly let me help. I have an accounting mind and neat penmanship, you know?"

One of her dusty boots finally hit the cobblestone.

"Oh, you have an accounting mind and neat penmanship, do you?" Tommy asked, chuckling at Pol's words being recycled through the mouth of his youngest sister.

Tommy still couldn't fathom his aunt letting the kids help with the business. He tried to picture the twins in the office, taking down bets from the rough, scruffy men of Small Heath, being there when the inevitable fights broke out, and listening to their coarse talk. He was surprised Finn and Clara had any innocence left in them at all.

"Yes, I do, Tommy," she answered, matter-of-factly.

"Well, someday you'll use those skills, but for now, you're to be a kid. Let your brothers take care of the counting."

"But I like counting."

Tommy laughed to himself, steering her towards the front door of the book shop. Upon entering, Tommy had directed Clara to the rear, where they kept the small selection of books meant for children.

"I'm much too old for these, Thomas."

He took a deep breath with the announcing of his full name, losing count of the number of times he had heard her use it today. He remembered the days when his baby sister had been relatively easy. Compared to the others, he supposed she still was the easy one.

Clara had always been a bit on the feisty side, a product of being a Shelby. These days Tommy thought she was also developing an abundant and at times, annoyingly pragmatic attitude. It wasn't quite arrogance but his sister possessed a certain boldness, a certain confidence that had never been present when she was young.

"Since when?" he asked.

"Since I'm to be eleven. I'm not a child anymore. I want to read those books."

Clara pointed to the Sherlock Holmes books on the shelf near the front window.

"What did Aunt Pol say about those books?"

Tommy had overheard the conversation a few days before. Clara had earned herself a sharp though harmless swat from Pol over the whole thing. The girl was certainly persistent if nothing else.

"She said that a little girl has no need to read of murder and detectives but—"

"And what need does a little girl have to read of murder and detectives?"

Clara scowled. "I don't want to read the baby books anymore. They're not a challenge."

Tommy sighed. He knew that was true. Though he told his sister that she was too little for the books he kept on his own shelf, it was merely based on the subject matter. She was more than capable of getting through the actual words on her own.

"Please, Tommy. It's all I want," she said, "And you've missed…" Clara hadn't intended on saying the second part out loud and she allowed the words to trail away to nothing.

Tommy nodded his head but stayed quiet, letting her words properly register and settle, processing what she had said.

In the quiet, Clara turned away from him, picking up a random book from the children's shelves and holding it out to him. "We can get this one," she said gently.

Tommy took the book from her hand, placing it back on the shelf before taking to a knee in front of his sister. He placed his hands on her arms and looked into her eyes. Tears had escaped to streak down both of her cheeks but Clara remained quiet.

"I've missed four birthdays but I'm home now. I will not be missing another."

Clara nodded, wiping at her cheeks with the sleeve of her coat, though the tears he cleared away were simply replaced by fresh ones. Clara focused on a book on the shelf beyond Tommy's right ear, avoiding his gaze.

"Clara?" he prompted.

She looked at him again, chewing her bottom lip. "Are you certain you won't have to go back?"

"I'm certain. The war is good and over."

"And Arthur won't make you go away?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. She must've overheard it earlier in the shop. Arthur couldn't keep his mouth shut no matter who was listening.

"Arthur has no say in where I go or what I do."

"But he's your big brother."

"And I love him dearly but Arthur doesn't tell me what to do… Clara, you listen to me. We're home for good, all of us."

Tommy's words acted as a release and Clara latched her arms around his neck. When her tears showed no signs of stopping and her grip remained steady, Tommy pulled his sister up in his arms. He walked towards the front of the store and pointed to the books displayed in the front window.

"All of them, sir?" the shopkeeper asked.

Tommy nodded once. "Have them wrapped and sent round by Monday."

By the time Clara cried herself to sleep in her brother's arms, they were approaching Watery Lane. Tommy had had the very same conversation with Clara more than once since being home. It was becoming clear that even after all this time, she quite obviously didn't believe that the boys weren't going back. Tommy couldn't blame her. There were nights when he still didn't believe that the war was over himself.


	3. Bad Dreams

**Bad Dreams**

 _1919_

Tommy pushed the flimsy wooden door open just far enough to peer inside. He watched the almost metronomic heaving of Clara's chest for a few moments, satisfying his need to know that she slept soundly. He watched her for a moment longer than he truly needed before gently pulling the door closed as he moved towards his own bed. He slowly made his way towards his own bed, wishing there was someplace else he could be, some business or trouble to be getting up to, anything besides the twin-sized bed and dark hours of silence awaiting him.

Clara didn't know her brother still checked on her each night, watching for just a moment when he returned from the pubs or a late night in the office or Lizzie's place. Since being back in Birmingham, he had yet to forget to check on her. It was a promise he had made when she was young, back when he first began spending all of his nights away from the twins at bedtime.

There were evenings when Tommy thought it was getting to be time for him to get a place of his own. The bedroom at the back of 6 Watery Lane was his and had been for twenty-five years but Tommy's restlessness only grew within those four walls. Though dreams of the war haunted him each night, he longed to sleep outside, under a tent or the stars, as he had in France. Through the shield of dust and smog, he couldn't see a single star in the Birmingham sky.

Tommy tried to imagine what it might look like, having a place of his own, three bedrooms, a parlor, dining room, and kitchen to himself. He usually stopped imagining at that point. He had no use for three bedrooms. He barely used the one he had now. He wasn't one for cooking, or for sitting down to a meal for that matter either. No, Tommy Shelby did not need a place of his own. He had enough time to himself as it was.

Living above the shop was just easier anyhow. He was accessible if anything happened with the shop. And the door to Tommy's bedroom was directly adjacent to Clara's, the two upstairs rooms sharing a thin wall. Finn and Ada, when she was home, were just a few doors down. Having the family close made it easier to keep tabs, to account for those he cared about on his way to bed. And it gave Polly freedom to stay at her own place if she chose. She had certainly earned it.

* * *

It was some hours later, during the early morning hours when Clara startled awake, a shout sounding from the other side of her wall. The floor chilled her skin as she slipped from the covers and walked barefoot across the hardwood. She sidestepped the creakier spots on the floor as she tiptoed to Tommy's door, rapping her knuckles twice. "Tommy?"

She heard nothing by way of a response aside from another garroted shout and she pushed the door open. There was no slow heaving of Tommy's chest but instead ragged breathing as he thrashed about on top of the covers. Clara called his name out again, stepping closer. She reached out to shake his shoulder to wake him from the dream but Tommy's rough hand wrapped around her wrist, tugging her closer to the edge of his bed.

Clara cried out, prying at Tommy's fingers as his grip tightened. Though he was no longer thrashing about and his shouts had quieted to incoherent mumbles, his strong hand drew Clara closer, nearly tugging her onto the bed. As she grasped at his forearm and arm, seeking some leverage to free herself, she found taut muscles, unrelenting and solid as stone. The more Clara struggled, the harsher Tommy's grip became, the pain radiating through Clara's wrist and into the fingers of her hand.

It was her whimpers and shouts which finally broke through to Tommy's consciousness, pulling him from the dream. She had slumped to the floor beside the bed, her arm extended into the air, tears staining her flushed cheeks.

Tommy swore to himself and loosened his grip, intending to help her to her feet but Clara had crawled away from him. As she retreated towards the door, Tommy opened the drawer of his bedside table and placed his pipe inside. Clara's attention had been focused elsewhere, on Tommy's night tremor and the tight grip on her wrist and then the throbbing that still moved through her delicate wrist. She hadn't even seen it, not that she would've known what it was if she had.

"What're you doing out of bed? It's late."

"You were shouting."

Clara had stopped rubbing her wrist, moving both arms behind her back.

"I'm sorry for waking you," Tommy said, rubbing his thumb and pointer fingers over his eyes before rubbing his hand across his face. With both elbows pressed into his knees, he held a hand out towards her, beckoning her forward. "Let me see."

Clara hesitated, twisting on her bare feet, legs crossed at the ankles. In a nightgown she had nearly grown out of in the months since he had been home, an impractical cream-colored thing with frills at the arms and bottom hemline, Tommy could see a collection of bruises dotting her pale legs.

"It's alright."

"I need to see. It won't hurt."

Clara moved forward, the steps slow and deliberate. She stopped between his knees, holding her arm even as he gingerly drew it from her body with newly gentle hands. His thumb rubbed over the red mark his fingers had left. Tommy expected a bruise by morning.

He grasped her hand in his. "Let's test your handshake. Make sure it still works."

Clara did as he asked, offering a delicate shake, her grasp light, and her wrist loose.

"How about a real one, eh? One suitable for a young lady."

"Young ladies don't shake hands."

"I suppose you're right, Lady Clara. I humbly beg your pardon for my mistake."

The hint of a smile pulled across her face as Tommy pulled her hand to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on the back of her hand.

"Any better, my lady?"

Clara nodded despite the soreness and Tommy absently ran a hand over her hair, smoothing out the tangles she'd made tossing and turning in her sleep. He was surprised he hadn't done more damage. He could've broken something, sprained something. He had been dreaming about France, lost in some vivid reincarnation of the tunnels that contaminated his subconscious thoughts. Clara's intrusion had painted her as the enemy.

Tommy had been to see Lizzie before coming home from the Garrison, a distraction which seemed to be losing its effectiveness, his relief in the aftermath barely lasting beyond his drop of a few banknotes on her dresser.

He wanted to place the blame on the business with Danny Whizz-Bang. He longed for his recent undoing to be on account of Danny's increasing outbursts. It was an inconvenient burden but Tommy owed the man something. Not everything was black and white but his debt to Daniel Owen was. Danny had saved his life. Tommy owed him the same.

"Were you having a bad dream?"

Clara pulled him from his reverie. She had settled against his knee, his hand around her back. Tommy focused on her face, her still childlike features scrunched up in concern.

"You can tell me about it."

She released herself from his hold, settling on the bed beside her brother. Clara looked at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"You have a lot of bad dreams."

"I've seen a lot of bad things."

"In the war?"

Tommy nodded. "And in life, but mostly the war, yes."

Clara sat quietly beside Tommy, her arm wrapped in his as she leaned into him.

"Do you know what your brothers did in the war?"

"You dug the tunnels," she said, tugging an extra blanket from the end of the bed. Clara settled it over both of them as she scooted back to lean against the wall behind Tommy's bed.

"We did," Tommy answered, following her lead and leaning back. "And we never quite knew where the other side was digging…"

Clara watched her brother with rapt attention, her eyes bright with her usual hunger, and Tommy faltered. He had no desire to burden his eleven-year-old sister with the war. He didn't like how interested she was, hanging on his words as if they comprised a story in a book. He didn't like the idea of Clara turning about his war stories in the depths of her vivid imagination.

"Sometimes, I dream that I'm still there is all, but that's nothing for you to worry about."

Clara nodded once, scooting towards the end of the bed and moving towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

She held up a single finger and disappeared through the door for a few moments, returning with a well-worn book in her hand. She held the cover of _Black Beauty_ towards him, the green cover faded from years of handling. Clara's face held a stern expression as she perched herself on the edge of the bed. "Just until you grow tired, Tommy," she warned.

The irony wasn't lost on him. He had read certain stories to Clara over and over as a young girl, to lull her to sleep when she insisted she wasn't tired and to distract her after merciless nightmares. She had always wanted more and more of the stories, pulling herself from near sleep to demand more if he stopped. He had started giving storytime a predetermined cutoff.

"Shall we start at the beginning?" she asked.

Tommy nodded, inviting Clara to sit beside him as he leaned against the headboard. Clara climbed up beside him, leaning her back to his chest and lifting her arms as he settled the blanket over their legs. She opened the books between their laps and after clearing her throat, she began to read.

 _"The first place that I can remember was a large pleasant meadow with a pond of clear water in it…"_

Tommy closed his eyes, listening to Clara's voice. It had been a long while since he had heard his sister read aloud, her voice sounding clear and confident. She moved over the lines with a quick and deliberate pace. Clara no longer struggled with the larger words, stumbling over them as she sounded out the letters. Instead, her tone conveyed something close to memorization, as if she knew the words by heart even without looking at the page. Tommy could easily imagine that to be true.

* * *

Tommy didn't remember falling asleep but the soft light beyond his thin curtains told him it was morning. He shifted slightly between Clara's sleeping form and the wall, feeling a determined stiffness in his limbs and neck. The book sat discarded between them and Tommy lifted it from the covers, placing it on the nightstand.

Tommy climbed over Clara to get out of the bed, watching as she shifted in her sleep. She moved into the warmth he left behind and Tommy pulled the spare blanket over her shoulder.

"Mornin'," she mumbled as Tommy moved away, her back to him as she curled towards the wall.

"Good morning," he echoed as he began dressing.

"Leavin'?"

Tommy smirked as she mumbled to the wall, her speech lazy and uncharacteristically stunted as she was still foggy with slumber. "I've got business," he answered, leaning down to press a kiss to her hair. "But it's early, my girl. You stay and sleep."

Clara nodded, snuggling further into the blankets. Tommy waited for her settle, lingering to observe the measured breaths signifying she had once again drifted off before heading downstairs.

Despite the early hour, Polly sat at the table, dressed and holding a warm teacup in her hand. "Which one of you had the bad dreams?"

Tommy's eyes flicked to his aunt's but he didn't reply, reaching behind him to pull his cap off the hook.

Polly gave him a knowing look as she sipped her tea. She wouldn't push it. Clara had been nightmare free since the weeks after the boys returned home but Polly had still found her in her brothers' beds with fair regularity, usually with a book beside her.

"Let her have a late lie-in," he finally said as he pulled the cap over his head.

Polly nodded, watching him. She wished he would have a late lie-in. She wished he would stop moving and planning and scheming for long enough to have a clear, sensible thought but Tommy had been moving from the moment he stepped off the train back to Birmingham.

"Moon has waned, Thomas."

"Yes."

"So, you've done the right thing, then?"

Tommy's gaze didn't waver from Polly's eyes. She would ordinarily hold his gaze but she didn't feel up to his games.

"You want to leave them again?" she asked. "That man is out for blood, Tommy, and those kids haven't been happier than they are having their brothers here at home. I won't let you put this family through it again."

Tommy took a deep breath. It was much too early for a conversation like this. It was much too early to hear his aunt's guilty pleas.

"If those children mean—"

"Pol, I will take care of it."

"You'd better."

Tommy didn't answer, heading out the door to Watery Lane. He had no intention of letting the copper from Belfast win but he also had no intention of giving up the guns. The guns were a ticket to a different life for him, for the family, for the kids. While the streets of Birmingham remained empty and as the distance from his conversation with Polly grew, Tommy allowed his mind to drift to ideas of a different life, to thoughts of a large pleasant meadow and a pond of clear water.


	4. Biscuits

**Biscuits**

 _1919_

When Ada came down the steps, she found Clara settled at the table, her head down as she focused on some page in the accounting ledger. Polly had slipped them to the girl earlier that day wanting a little peace for herself and quiet and knowing the numbers would keep her busy for a time.

Ada glanced over her younger sister's shoulder. Clara used her pencil as a guide as she scanned through the rows of numbers, checking her work over one last time. Ada had never been interested in playing around with numbers in the same way Clara and Polly seemed to be. Ada had done well enough to get by in school but one would never find her begging to help out with the accounting, or with the betting business at all for that matter.

The way Ada saw things, the boys were home now and she was perfectly content to allow them to manage it.

"Don't let Tom see you working with those books," Ada teased, tugging one of Clara's long, thick braids.

Clara swatted her sister's hand away before straightening her hair on her shoulder and starting once again with the business of double-checking her work. Having looked up from the newspaper she was reading, Polly eyed the Shelby girls. The sisters didn't often fight but they often teased. Ada found a sense of enjoyment in the playful provocation of her younger sister in the same way that Clara sometimes enjoyed exasperating Ada for the sport of it. Polly suspected the girls knew they were safe in pestering one another in a way it wasn't safe with the brothers.

"You let your sister be, Ada."

Polly dropped the newspaper into her lap and gave the girls her full attention.

"At least one of you girls has taken an interest in the family business and that's a right good thing. A woman will be needed to keep those boys in line when I retire. I won't be doing this job forever."

Ada crossed her arms over her chest. "And what else will you do with your time, Pol, take up knitting sweaters and reading?"

She smirked at her aunt, a bit proud of her own wit until Polly swatted her with the rolled-up newspaper. Ada fell into a deep fit of giggles.

"What's wrong with reading?" Clara said.

Polly smiled at Clara. "Nothing's wrong with reading, dear. Your sister has just got her priorities mixed up… thinks the only thing important in this world is going 'round with all the boys in Small Heath. Spent her years in school passing notes and making dates rather than engaging in proper learning like you."

"I've not been 'round with all the boys in Small Heath, Pol. Our brothers have seen to that."

"Well, it's not for your lack of trying, is it?" Pol answered, an eyebrow raised.

"Like you've got much room to speak on that subject," Ada mumbled, raising her eyebrows as she waited for a response.

Clara focused intently on their exchange, not bothering to hide her interest. Polly's eyes flicked from one girl to the other. They were both Shelby girls, both strong and sharp, and high strung in their own ways, but Polly was often struck by how vastly different Ada and Clara were, starting with their contrasting features and ending with the alarmingly dissimilar ways their shared Shelby traits manifested. And Polly had a distinct relationship with each of her nieces. Clara was Polly's in a way that Ada never had been.

"Your sister has no need to hear this."

"You started—"

"That's enough, Ada."

Ada huffed. "Well, I can see when my presence is no longer appreciated," Ada answered, shrugging into her coat. "I'll be home for supper."

Clara quickly stood from her chair, pushing the accounting ledger towards Polly.

"Ada, wait! Where are you going?"

"Out," she answered quickly, rolling her eyes when she caught Polly's glance and pursed lips. "I'm just going for a walk, Pol."

"Can I come?" Clara said. "I'm all finished here and maybe we can stop by and see Uncle Charlie? Is that alright, Aunt Polly?"

"It's alright with me."

Polly looked over the papers while the girls sorted things. The girl was good with numbers, better than any of the boys were and quicker than Polly was. Tommy may not have approved of the kids helping out but Clara was good at it. And because Polly knew it made the girl happy to think she was helping, she gave her a benign page of the accounting ledger if she seemed in need of something to keep her busy. Tommy did not need to know who checked the numbers.

"Why don't you stay here with Pol and we'll take a stroll after supper?" Ada offered.

"But the boys won't let me walk around after supper."

"She's right, Ada. You shouldn't be walking around after dark either."

"I can handle myself, Aunt Pol."

"I'm sure," Polly answered. "Your sister has been cooped up here all day. Take her with you."

"Why don't you take her out?" Ada suggested.

"Because she wants to go with her sister."

If Ada didn't have a substantial soft spot for her only sister, she may have been annoyed with Clara being pushed on her, especially now of all times. She looked down at Clara's sulky features, feeling the faintest bit of pity creeping in. Ada often pretended it never bothered her but she remembered being the little Shelby girl left at home by the boys. While Ada often simply hadn't listened when told to stay put, Clara was most often a good girl. Though given the girl's developing attitude, Ada thought maybe her little sister just had more self-preserving qualities than Ada had ever possessed. When Clara Shelby disobeyed her family, it was usually a well-calculated maneuver. And beyond the pity, Ada knew Clara was loyal to her and she knew Clara kept her sister's secrets from the boys. She could trust her to not say a thing about where she was going.

"Fine. Go grab a coat," she conceded.

Clara took to the stairs, skipping one when her short legs could manage it. Her coat hung in the small wardrobe in her bedroom. Only a few months old, the wool coat was easily the nicest thing Clara Shelby had ever owned. Clara had begged and begged for one like the red coat in the front window of the shop but Tommy had a nagging feeling about sending his sister about town with her long blonde hair and a little red coat. She was recognizable enough as a Shelby girl, no need to garner any extra attention with a red coat. They had settled on a deep blue instead.

Though Clara had pouted on the way home that day, she had come to like the coat now, with its stitched velvet collar and matching pocket flaps. She had even come to like the more sensible navy blue. It wasn't nearly as nice as Ada's coats with the fur lining but at least it wasn't black or brown like most of the girls wore.

Clara buttoned the jacket as she left her room, casually hopping her way down the stairs.

"And where are you off to, Miss Shelby?"

She met Tommy midway down the staircase. He stopped a few steps below her and Clara found she quite liked the idea of being about the same height as her brother, not having to look up to meet his eye.

"Out," she quipped, attempting to skip past him.

Tommy caught Clara by the arms, holding her in front of him as he waited for a more descriptive response. He had received the same clipped response from Ada moments before in the kitchen. He had barely accepted the ambiguity from Ada and he certainly wasn't planning to accept it from an eleven-year-old.

"Just for a walk with Ada," she said.

Tommy nodded. There was a novelty, Tommy thought, in Ada Shelby taking an interest in something other than disappearing off by herself. Before seeing her in the kitchen, he hadn't seen the girl for days, possibly longer. It could've been a week. He knew it had something to do with a man. There wasn't much else for girls Ada's age to be sneaking around for.

"Aunt Polly already said I could go," Clara said, taking Tommy's silence for hesitation.

"Stick by Ada," he said, "And stop by Hinkley's and get yourself a biscuit."

Tommy slipped a coin into Clara's coat pocket but Tommy doubted she would use it. The bakery was a new addition to the protection roll. To Tommy, that meant an unspoken condition of their deal included free sweets for the younger Shelbys.

Clara fingered the small coin before placing it back in her pocket, a smile coming over her face. She reached out, placing her arms around Tommy's neck, only the tips of her toes remaining on the step. He held her there for a moment before settling her back on flat feet.

"Alright, go on. Ada's waiting."

Clara and Ada walked in comfortable silence for several blocks, Ada leading the way, her heels stomping through the mud. Ada seemed to be moving with determination, her stride wider than Clara was easily able to keep up with.

"Quickly, Clara, we're late."

"What for?"

Ada glanced back at her sister and Clara instantly understood.

"We're off to meet Freddie, then?" she asked.

"I am going to meet Freddie. You are going to…" Ada began as she looked around, searching for a friendly face, a safe place to store her little sister while she met up with her boyfriend.

"But I want to see Freddie, too," Clara protested. "Why can't I come, Ada?"

Ada sighed. Freddie Thorne had been both girl's first crushes.

Ada had loved Freddie since she was younger than Clara was now and Clara had taken to her brother's best friend when she was just a baby, a cooing bundle of blankets. Freddie had always been sweet to Clara before the war, back when the boys were all friends and he frequented No. 6 Watery Lane as if it was a second home. He still asked about 'our little Clara' and Ada knew he wouldn't mind seeing her. Yet, something in her didn't want her sister tagging along. Ada had a single goal in meeting up with Freddie today and it wasn't something suitable for an eleven-year-old. Ada rounded on her sister, bending to her height.

"Freddie and I have adult plans that are just for the two of us. You can see him another day. We'll set a time for the three of us, I promise."

"So I can't come because you're going to play couch quail with Freddie?"

"What?" Ada said, nervous laughter spilling from her lips.

"Couch quail," Clara repeated, her tone serious and unwavering.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Johnny said it," Clara answered quietly.

"You don't even know what that is!"

"I do so! It's when a boy and a—"

Ada clapped a hand over Clara's mouth, effectively shutting her sister up, glancing around as people walked past them.

"Fucking hell, Clara. People can hear you. Didn't anyone ever tell you not to repeat the stupid shit your brother says?"

Clara shrugged and Ada's chest heaved as she took a deep breath, rubbing her forehead and left temple as she thought.

"I have to see Freddie alone and I need you to keep that to yourself and oh, what if you visit with Uncle Charlie and the horses like you wanted while I go meet Freddie? I'll get you settled there and I'll come back around after I'm finished. Shouldn't be very long and we can stop for those biscuits on the way home."

Clara thought about it for a moment. She _had_ wanted to visit Uncle Charlie and Curly and the horses. And Clara rightly knew that Ada would only complain about wanting to leave if she came along to the yard. Going alone would give Clara the freedom to do as she pleased in the yard and spend proper time with the horses.

"Alright," she said, nodding once. "But I don't need you to get me settled. I know how to get there."

Ada studied her sister. A year ago, Ada wouldn't have questioned sending her younger sister off to Uncle Charlie's on her own but Small Heath was a different place now that the men were home. Still, Clara knew the route well enough and Ada knew it would give them both more time in their respective locations.

"Are you sure?"

"Two lefts, a right, and run all the way to the yard," Clara answered confidently.

"Straight there, Clara. I mean it. Don't talk to anyone on the way. Don't stop in a shop to look at books."

"I know. I'm not a baby."

"I know you're not technically, but you are the baby."

Ada idly fingered a strand of her sister's hair but Clara pushed her hand away.

"You'll be late for Freddie if you don't let me go."

Ada nodded once before leaving Clara alone on a street corner as she headed to meet her man. Clara waited until her sister was out of sight before turning away to start on her own journey.

Now that the boys were back in Birmingham, Clara wasn't permitted to do much wandering on her own. It was another of Tommy's swiftly imposed rules. Wandering close to home was generally allowed but he didn't like for Clara to go much beyond Watery Lane without an escort even though Finn was allowed.

While the boys were away, the twins had traversed Birmingham without much of a thought. Clara and Finn had regularly walked themselves to Uncle Charlie's yard to see the horses or deliver messages. She knew the quickest way was the exact route she had described to Ada but Clara knew she wouldn't be taking it. She preferred the long way along that took her along the cut. She liked to balance along the stone edging as she watched the boats slowly pass by.

When Clara finally decided to take stock in her surroundings beyond the passing boats and the water, she realized that she was several streets past the turn to Charlie's yard, further from home than she had ever wandered alone.

Clara had a sudden pang in her chest as her blood pumped harder. She didn't recognize the buildings. Clara felt uncertain how long she had been walking but her legs felt sore, the edge of her smallest toe rubbed against her boots, that fact that they were nearly too small becoming evident on account of all the walking. It took only a moment for Clara to realize that even though she didn't know where she was, she had only to retrace her steps along the cut. She hadn't once strayed from the water's edge in all the time she had been walking.

Clara turned around, setting off at a run in the direction of the yard to make up time. It felt good to run, to expend the anxious energy that had forced itself into her muscles. She was just before the turnoff for Charlie's and Clara saw a group of boys playing by the water and she slowed to a walk. As she moved closer, Clara could see it was her brother with his friends, the boys crowding around Finn. Out of breath from all the running, Clara inched forward, about to step up to her brother's side when out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ada stomping towards her.

"Clara fuckin' Shelby. I thought you were going straight to Uncle Charlie's, not playing with the boys," she shouted from a few steps away.

"I…I was walking and I—"

The noise which sounded was so deafening that all Clara could hear was a high-pitched ringing in her ears though Ada's mouth hung open like she was screaming. Ada barely noticed the second shot that went off when Finn dropped the gun to the ground, sending a bullet straight across the water and through the wall of a shed.

"Where the fuck did you get that?"

Finn was quiet as Ada leaned over to pick up the offending gun, quickly emptying the bullets into her palm before stashing everything in her purse.

"Fucking John," she decided, saying it more to herself than anyone else before Finn could answer.

Ada knew she wasn't the best role model for the twins but she figured she was one of the better options they had. At least she wasn't teaching them ridiculous sex slang and leaving guns lying around.

"All of you go home. If you speak a word of this, you'll be hearing from the Peaky Blinders by nightfall," Ada threatened the other boys before turning to her younger siblings. "And you simps come with me."

"Are you going to tell?"

It was Finn who asked the question, sounding small and nervous as he and Clara reluctantly followed in Ada's wake. Ada glanced back at them, stopping them all in their tracks.

"I was just playing…didn't know it was loaded," Finn offered.

"Finn, you nearly killed someone," Ada said. "Me. Clara. One of your friends. Any of us could be dead."

"But it wasn't on purpose."

"It wasn't fucking on purpose he says. I suppose you didn't wander off on purpose either?" Ada glanced at a speechless Clara. "On purpose or not, you're both going to tell what you've done and I'll let someone else decide what to do with your sorry arses. Now, let's go," Ada ordered.

"But, Ada—"

Clara didn't want to be in trouble with her brothers, especially not for violations like not listening and wandering around Small Heath by herself. Clara was fairly certain that Tommy, in particular, wouldn't be exceptionally happy to hear about it.

"You were supposed to go straight to Charlie's," Ada retorted.

"I was on my way. And I'm…" Clara looked at Finn and beckoned Ada down to her level, whispering into her big sister's ear. "…And I'm keeping your secret. If they know I was going to Charlie's alone they'll want to know why."

Ada looked down at Clara as her jaw dropped noticeably. Her little sister was far smarter and more manipulative than she herself had been at that age. Even though the girl was only using it to save herself from some imagined punishment, Ada was impressed.

"Alright well, Finn you can tell Aunt Polly what you've done and let her decide."

"Then we still have to get biscuits or Tommy'll know," Clara said.

Finn looked to be in a crummy mood but perked up at the mention of biscuits and Clara showed her twin the shiny coin Tommy had given her.

Ada rolled her eyes but knew that Clara was right. She turned down the lane towards Hinkley's with the twins in tow. Rather than paying for a single biscuit, Clara was given a brown paper bag with a full assortment and sent on her way.

Despite the seriousness of the gun situation, Ada had calmed while walking back to Watery Lane, nibbling on one of the biscuits as they went. The twins split the rest of the bag, thoroughly spoiling their dinner before they got to the front steps of the family home.

"Go wash up and find your brothers," Polly said as she heard the group come in through the door.

"Finn's got something to tell you, Pol," Ada said, holding Finn by the scruff of his neck so he didn't go anywhere.

"No, I haven't," he complained, struggling to get away from Ada.

"Finn Shelby, you can tell me yourself or one of your sisters will tell me, isn't that right, girls?"

"Shelbys don't tattle," Clara answered confidently.

"It's not tattling, you twit, especially not when your brother nearly kills you," Ada said, hitting Clara in the back of her head with her free hand.

Polly slammed the pot containing dinner down on the table, her hands landing on her hips. "What are you talking about?"

"He shot a fucking gun, Pol!" Ada said, pushing him forward.

"Ada!" Finn complained, trying to move back behind his sister.

Polly had already swatted at Finn once and Clara took a step back away from the action, a weak attempt at self-defense.

"Where did you get a gun?" Polly asked, coming dangerously close to Finn and sticking a finger in his face.

"I found it," he answered with a shrug.

"Where'd you find it?"

"In the shop."

"And the bullets?"

"They were already there but I didn't know it."

"I will kill that senseless brother of yours," Polly said, mostly to Ada, as she rubbed her temples. "One of these kids is going to get hurt and maybe then those boys will take this seriously."

"Are you going to tell?" Finn asked, suddenly nervous. "It wasn't on purpose. I swear it, Aunt Polly."

Polly seemed flustered for a moment before she looked down at her nephew.

"I don't know, but you can go right up to your room for the rest of the night. You're not supposed to be in that shop and you're not supposed to take things that aren't yours and you don't ever shoot a gun without being taught how."

"What about supper?" Finn asked.

"You won't be having any. It looks like the two of you already spoiled your supper anyhow."

Polly snatched the now empty paper bag from Clara's hand and Clara stepped closer to Finn.

"But it was just an accident, Aunt Polly," Clara said, immediately regretting the scrutinizing attention it brought her.

"You need to stay out of it unless you'd like to join him," Polly warned, "Don't go getting yourself into trouble because of your brother's stupidity."

Clara quickly shut her mouth and Polly shooed her nephew up the stairs, returning her attention to supper.

"Alright then, Clara, go let your brothers know it's time for supper. Ada, get out the plates."

Clara dutifully headed towards the threshold of the shop, leaning her head in the open doorway. The business was closed for the day and her brothers were sitting around one of the tables, Tommy talking quietly as the other two listened.

"If you're going to listen in, you might as well come to join us," Tommy said in an unamused tone, his back to the little girl by the door.

"I wasn't listening in," she protested.

Clara made her way into the room, stopping beside Arthur's chair. He placed an arm around the girl, pulling her close enough to kiss her cheek. Clara looked over at Tommy who was still watching her.

"Our Clara just wanted to visit with her brothers, isn't that right?" Arthur said as he pulled her up into his lap.

Tommy could see something unsettled in his sister and he took a long puff from his cigarette as he considered her. "How was your walk with Ada?"

"Good," Clara answered. "Hinkley gave me a whole bag of sweets."

Tommy nodded, taking another long drag of his cigarette.

"Well, where's our share then?" John asked.

"Finn and I ate them on the way," Clara said, a small smirk on her lips.

"Well, damn, Clara, you didn't even think of us, did you?"

"Not when it comes to biscuits, I don't," Clara answered, bringing her brothers to a fit of laughter.

"Hand her over here, Arthur. Our girl needs a lesson on what happens to little girls who don't share biscuits with her brothers."

"But Aunt Pol says it's time for supper!" Clara said, attempting to get herself up and a safe distance from the boys. Arthur had already started to pass her off to John, Clara fighting him until John had started in on the tickling, rendering her nearly defenseless. Her shrieks and giggles had John and Arthur in fits of laughter. The smallest hint of a smile had even made its way onto Tommy's face.

The moment wasn't long-lived as Pol shouted at the group from the door to come to wash up and eat. John dangled Clara over his shoulder as he carried her to the table, depositing her in an empty chair before heading home to have dinner with his own children.


	5. Alliances

**Alliances**

 _1919_

Arthur sat beside his sister, an ankle crossed over his knee as he rested both arms splayed over the back of the couch. The pair were in the front sitting room and Arthur had long ago lost track of how long he had been listening to Clara read her stories and prattle on about whatever it was that filled an eleven-year-old girl's days.

Right at the moment, it was some tale she had written for a school assignment, something about a young horse born for racing, though the only thing the young foal ever wanted was to live on a farm in the country. Clara turned to him as she finished, gulping as she awaited his assessment. Arthur beamed, leaning forward to cup her cheeks and place a kiss to her forehead.

"Brilliant, Clara, just brilliant."

She had lost him somewhere in the story, his mind occupied with other things but he knew it was likely true. She was brilliant. Arthur stole another glance at his pocket watch. It was the very thing that had distracted him in the first place. Arthur had afternoon plans with the two youngest Vale sisters and if things went well, those plans would easily span into the evening.

With everything going on with the family business, Arthur needed the calm morning with his little sister but now it was getting late for him to still be sitting around the house. He had whiled away the morning with a leisurely breakfast, followed by hours of stories, painting, and sketches. There wasn't a piece of art or a story of Clara's that Arthur hadn't proclaimed to be a stroke of genius. Clara had yet to reach the age where she felt that the praise wasn't fully deserved.

"You really think so? Tommy thought it needed work. In the middle, he sa—"

"Don't you know our brother isn't right about everything?"

Clara bit her bottom lip and Arthur gave her a sad smile.

"You don't have to answer that, sweetheart."

Arthur shifted in his seat before clapping his hands over his knees. He stood up and shrugged into the jacket he had tossed to the side upon sitting down with her. "Alright there, Clara, wish me luck. Got me an appointment."

"What appointment?"

Tommy was usually the one setting appointments and meeting, readily using the excuse to get out of one more story or a trip to the bookshop.

"Taking a few nice girls to the pictures," Arthur answered, straightening his jacket.

"Can you take me to the pictures?" Clara looked up to Arthur and pushed her hair behind her ears, the corners of her lips pulling down slightly to form a pout. "I haven't been to the pictures in ages. Ada never lets me come."

Arthur sighed. Part of him knew his little sister wouldn't be asking to do things with him for much longer. Ada had grown out of wanting to follow her brothers around at the age Clara was reaching now. It would only be a few more years and Clara would be sneaking off to the pictures with boys her brothers didn't approve of, just like Ada was probably doing these days.

"I don't think you'd want to be going to the pictures with Arthur. Might see things you can never un-see," John said with a smirk as he leaned in the doorway, a toothpick sticking out of his mouth.

The comment was a bit lost on Clara, the furrowing of her brow as she looked to him bringing John to choke on a laugh. But while Clara was working to put it all together, Arthur had already done so. He stood up quickly, closing the distance between himself and John as he shoved him hard against the wall.

"Shut it, John-boy. Don't be sour because you don't have a girl keeping you warm at night."

"I've been keeping plenty warm," John answered, shaking out the arm which had been slammed against the wall.

"'Atta boy," Arthur shouted, followed by a hearty laugh. Arthur clapped John on the shoulder before he looked back at Clara. "Next time, my girl. Next time, _you'll_ be my date to the pictures, alright?"

Clara nodded, a smile on her face as she tucked the promise away in her mind for later. As long as he hadn't been drinking, Arthur was pretty good for his word and even if he had been drinking, he usually obliged to keep the promise though he may not have remembered making it. Arthur pulled his hat off the arm of the couch, tapping Clara's head with it in the process before she swatted it away.

"You be good, kids," Arthur said, smirking at John as he made his way towards the door.

There was an almost instant quiet that settled over the room after Arthur shut the front door. John looked down at his sister and shortly after she got back to focusing on her things which were strewn across the coffee table, he took Arthur's vacated seat on the couch.

John spent what little free time he had leftover when work and play were done at his home looking after his four wild kids. They drove him nuts and exhausted him beyond what he thought to be possible. He loved the lot of them anyhow. The last thing he should have wanted after spending all night and morning with them was to spend time with more children, yet he felt content sitting beside his quiet sister. John often found that his youngest brother and sister weren't so tiresome.

Despite being only a few years older than his children, there was something that felt different to John about being with the twins. Maybe it was the fact that when it came down to it, there were a few people ahead of him in the line of responsibility but Finn and Clara just didn't ever seem to him that they were very much work. He left the business of parenting to just about anyone else in the household. And John also supposed that his own kids took after him to the point of it almost feeling like a punishment while the twins were a product of the entire Shelby household. They had a more adult-like grasp on most things and if John was being honest about it, Clara and Finn didn't often feel much like children these days.

"What're you up to?" he asked.

Clara shrugged. "Nothing," she answered, piling up her papers into a neat stack.

"Where's your brother?"

Clara was pretty certain that John meant Finn. The two were pretty inseparable these days. John had been pushing for Finn to become more involved in Blinder business, letting it slide when Finn made his way into the shop, talking freely in front of him. John had been waiting a long time to not be the youngest Shelby in the Peaky Blinders.

"He's out," she answered.

"You didn't want to go with him?"

She shrugged. "I want to finish this today."

Clara held out the book in her hands towards him. John could see it was one of the new ones Tommy had gotten her for her birthday, a scrap of paper marking her spot already more than halfway through.

"I think you and Tommy are the only Shelbys who like reading," he said, looking the book over as he turned it in his hands. "Haven't picked up a book since school myself."

"Aunt Polly reads," Clara said defensively.

"Yeah, the Bible, maybe. It's not the same. She's just doing it to keep God from smiting down the whole lot of us."

As mature as Clara was, most of John's humor was lost on her, probably because most of it was overtly racy and casually dipped in innuendo. But she wanted to laugh with her brother so she usually smiled whether she understood it all or not. Anything to be like a Shelby girl, to fit in with her brothers and sister.

Clara was fond of being on John's team in the same way she savored sharing secrets with Tommy, telling her stories to Arthur, communicating through a nearly nonverbal language with Finn, and unconditionally aligning herself with Ada. For most of Clara's childhood, she remembered Ada and John being united, likely because of their closeness in age, a pair of relentlessly trying adolescents when Clara was still a small child.

Though it was now a thing of the past, John and Ada had been something close to ruthless in the youthful teasing of their youngest sibling. Their tormenting settled as Clara's light blonde hair darkened to a shade closer to that of butterscotch, something less strikingly different from the others. And it settled a bit more because Thomas and Polly had expressly forbidden the teasing from continuing. After a time, John and Ada mostly moved on but not before the running joke that the youngest Shelby wasn't really a Shelby had become a true problem. It had been right around the time Clara turned four.

* * *

 _1912_

 _"Hmm..."_

 _John made the noise as he sat with Ada at the other end of the table, eating their lunch._

 _"What is it, John?" Ada let out a slight giggle. They had rehearsed, so Ada knew precisely the words that were due to come out of her brother's mouth, her anticipation doing little to improve her shoddy acting skills._

 _"Just, have you ever, in all your time on this earth, ever seen a blonde headed Shelby, Ada? A real, legitimate Shelby with blonde hair?"_

 _Clara looked up from her soup, her pale waves falling around her face before she pushed them behind her ears. Clara's hair was blonder than normal on account of all the summer afternoons spent in the yard while she worked with Tommy and the horses. John took a sloppy bite off his piece of bread, staring at Clara, a smirk on his lips though Clara couldn't tell that he was playing._

 _"No, John, I do not believe I have."_

 _"But I have blonde hair."_

 _"That you do, Clara," John answered, considering the statement before he turned to Ada. "I suppose she must not be a real Shelby then, yeah, Ada?"_

 _"But Finn and I were born together," Clara cut in. Her bottom lip pulled up as it began to quiver, a largely involuntary response._

 _"Ah, but you two were born different days, Clara. Who knows? Maybe you were just some Watery Lane baby we took in."_

 _John shrugged his shoulders as if the notion was nothing, dipping the bread in his soup and taking another bite._

 _"Oh, maybe she's Lady Lily's. That woman is always having little blonde babies she doesn't want. Sends them all to the orphanage," Ada added, giggling as she finally found her confidence in the joke they were playing, comfortably improvising._

 _Clara went quiet after that because John and Ada had finished their lunch, heading out of the dining room soon after they were finished. Clara wished that Polly or Arthur or Tommy were home. Or even Finn. The twins had a special bond only twins could share and no one could deny that. He was a comfort to her, especially when John and Ada were being mean. In any case, Polly or Arthur or Tommy could tell Clara whether or not she was a real Shelby. But as she was sitting alone at the table, she was getting to thinking that Ada and John might be right. None of her brothers or sister had blonde hair like her and she didn't know her parents. Miss Lily did have blonde curls and they were just the same shade as Clara's._

 _Lady Lily was a nice lady from what Clara had seen and maybe she could be a nice mother but Clara knew that the woman did bad things to get money. And in any case, Clara liked being a Shelby. She liked her family and her home. She didn't want to live in an orphanage or a tiny, one-bedroom apartment. She wanted to stay where she was._

* * *

 _Tommy came home near mid-afternoon and his youngest sibling was at the table, tying up her boots, a suitcase by her side on the floor. She didn't bother looking up when he came through the door._

 _"And where are you off to?"_

 _Clara looked up at Tommy's voice then, her pale eyes rimmed red, looking raw. He took a few steps forward but still didn't get much by way of a response._

 _"What have you got that old suitcase out for?" he asked._

 _The case was almost as big as she was and Tommy couldn't imagine where the girl intended on carrying it. Wherever it was, she certainly wouldn't make it far._

 _"Is Lady Lily my mother?" she said quietly, barely more than a whisper._

 _"Who told you that?" he asked._

 _His voice was sharp and Clara hesitated. She didn't like to tattle but Clara told her brother just about everything. Aside from Finn, Tommy was her best friend._

 _"Clara, you tell me right now," Thomas said, his tone bringing fresh tears to her eyes._

 _He looked at the pitiful little girl in front of him. He had been away most of the day running errands but she had been fine when he left her playing alone in her room. He would venture to say she had been in a good mood, not even getting upset when he hadn't allowed her to come along for the day._

 _Thomas heard laughter from the front of the house. He knew it was Ada and John and Tommy didn't wait for an answer from the crying girl in front of him. A sudden rage surged through his body, filling his limbs with restless energy._

 _John and Ada were more than old enough to know better but he suspected that they had been bored. It certainly wasn't the first time John and Ada had picked on her, spinning tall tales of adoption, picking out some arbitrary trait that made the girl different from the rest of them. The baby of the family was an easy target, especially without her twin around to stick up for her._

 _Thomas came through the door, knocking both of his siblings in the back of the head hard enough that they covered themselves in case he came back for a second round. Clara watched from the doorway, hidden to the side and peeking out from behind the door._

 _"You leave our sister alone, both of you."_

 _As he left them, Thomas stopped just inside the dining room, reaching down to pick Clara up with one arm and grabbing the suitcase with another. He didn't speak until he dropped the suitcase on the floor of her bedroom and shifted her in his arms so she was in front of him._

 _"Clara, you're a Shelby girl and if either of those two idiots or anyone else ever tries to tell you something different, I want to be the first to know about it."_

 _"But they said there wasn't another blonde Shelby in the entire family."_

 _"Not one that they knew, maybe. And that just means you're special. They're just jealous. Their hair's the color of mud, eh? Probably half of Birmingham wishes they had hair the color of the sun like you."_

 _"I don't want to live at the orphanage or with Lady Lily," she cried, covering her face with her arms as she avoided letting him soothe her. None of what he had said was successfully sinking in._

 _"You're not going anywhere, Clara. You're staying right here where you belong until you get big and find someone good enough to marry and even then, you'll still be a Shelby. You'll always be a Shelby girl."_

* * *

 _1919_

John watched Clara, so attentive to whatever she was doing as she sat on the floor, her book open and a piece of paper open to the side as she wrote out a list of long words. Clara could spend hours sitting, focused intently on some self-assigned task but John was already feeling restless after only a few moments of watching. John nudged her with his shoe.

"Hey, you wanna do something more fun than sit around reading that book?"

Clara looked up at him but didn't set down the pencil in her hand. She was in the middle of writing out the word _valetudinarian_ , something she intended to look up in her dictionary later.

"Come on, Clara, leave your books and we'll have some fun, you and me."

"What kind of fun?" she asked.

"The kind that makes you laugh so hard you cry," he said, reaching down to tickle her side.

Clara began to giggle before she pushed his hand away.

"What do you say?"

Clara set the pencil down and closed her book before climbing up on the couch beside him.

"Right, then," he said, nodding and glancing up the stairs before looking back to Clara. "Is our Ada still asleep?"

"Ada sleeps all day," Clara answered with a smirk. It was the household joke these days. The Shelbys rarely saw Ada before noon.

"Yeah, 'cause… well, you never mind why," he answered. "But it's good because when we run upstairs and yell 'fire' she's gonna run right out the front door in her nightgown for all of Watery Lane to see."

John could tell by the look on Clara's face that she wasn't so certain about his plan. If he had presented the plan to Finn, the boys would've already been halfway up the stairs but not Clara. Clara had a stitch of loyalty to Ada, her only sister in a house full of boys.

"She's gonna be mad."

"Not at you…" he said. "All you're gonna do is run with her when she grabs your hand to get you to safety. Let her be mad at me."

John reached out to tickle her side again. "Come on, Clara. It'll be a laugh."

"Alright, alright," Clara finally answered, bringing a smirk to John's face as she pushed his hands away from her.

"Good, it's always good to have another partner in crime around," John answered as he pulled Clara to her feet and the two of them headed up the stairs. John and Clara were just outside Ada's door sharing a whisper when they heard someone clear their throat from down the hall.

"Christ, Clara, ya didn't tell me Tommy was home," John said, ruffling her hair as they both turned to face him. Clara had been so occupied with Arthur for the morning, she hadn't been paying much attention to where Tommy was. Plus, if Tommy didn't want his whereabouts known, they wouldn't be.

"What're you up to?" Tommy asked as he leaned against the wall a few paces away from them.

"Just playing a joke on Ada. You want in, Tom?"

"Leave Clara out of it. I need you in the shop, John," he said.

John rolled his eyes before looking to Clara and laughing, the smile on his face infectious to his little sister who started laughing too. "Guess we'd better do as we're told, Clara. Wouldn't want to risk upsetting this miserable old sod, would we?"

Clara opened her mouth to agree, but Thomas cut her off.

"Careful, John. You're going to get our sister saying things that'll only get her in trouble. You've corrupted Finn enough, leave Clara be."

Clara placed her hands behind her back, leaning against the wall and away from both brothers. Tommy's icy stare wasn't focused on her and she had every intention of keeping it that way.

"Aw come off it, Tommy. We were just playing around," John answered, scoffing and shaking his head. He swiftly lifted Clara over his shoulder when the only response he received from Tommy was a continuation of that same chilly stare. John ran down the steps with her draped over his shoulder. Clara was laughing and out of breath when he deposited her on the couch.

"You know who we should play a good honest prank on? That miserable brother of ours," John mumbled to Clara, a cocky smirk on his face. "Maybe we'll get him next."


	6. Sleepovers

**Sleepovers**

 _1919_

Clara was up and ready to go shortly after the first bit of light spilled across her bedroom floor. Having gone to bed early the evening before, she had no problem peeling off the covers to start her day even though the floorboards chilled her bare toes. The house had no business being so cold in spring. Clara dressed quickly and slowly traversed the stairs on her toes, carrying her book and her boots in her arms.

Hearing the sounds of someone foraging through the cupboards, Polly made her way down the back stairs to the kitchen. All she could see of her niece was boot-clad feet, thick navy-blue knee socks, and the bottom half of a blue flowered dress. The top half of Clara was stuck inside a high cupboard reaching for something in the far back.

"What are you after all the way up there?" Polly asked from the stairs, making her presence known well before she startled the girl. It was too early in the morning for Polly to be dealing with a child fallen from a wobbly stool she wasn't meant to be standing on in the first place.

"Mornin', Aunt Polly," Clara mumbled from inside the cabinet. She carefully backed herself out and studied her aunt momentarily just to be sure she wasn't in for a swat for climbing up on the furniture.

Considering the easy smile on Polly's face to be something akin to permission, Clara resumed her reaching, finally pulling out a small bag that had been stashed away earlier in the week, hidden away from her brothers and sister. She quickly checked the bag's contents, making sure the amount seemed right.

Clara suspected that Tommy knew where she hid her sweets. She had made him promise to cover his eyes while she got them out to share one night after supper but Clara was pretty sure he had been watching.

Technically, the sweets were a gift to the whole Shelby family, an unofficial payment of sorts, but seeing as Clara had been the one to stop into the store to collect while her brother waited outside, she had claimed the lot as her own.

"You'd best not be thinking of having sweets for breakfast," Polly said, glancing at the bag.

"I already ate my breakfast. These are for Siah…for later," Clara said.

"Don't let your brothers know you're hiding away sweets to be sharing with boys."

"It's _just Isiah_ ," Clara said, her voice brandishing an attitude this time.

"Well, come down off from there and tell me what else we should pack for Mr. _Isiah_ ," Polly said as she pulled a small basket off a shelf for them to fill.

Clara dropped in the bag of sweets inside, ignoring the mocking tone in her aunt's voice as she climbed down from the stool and searched the kitchen for other provisions. Polly arranged the items in the basket as Clara brought them over, keeping her precious sweets hidden at the bottom, under the bread and fruit.

Polly sometimes wondered how much longer the Reverend's boy would be _just_ _Isiah_ to her niece. After all, Ada had been around Clara's age when boys became a bit more interesting, specifically her brother's best friend. It wouldn't surprise Polly if the same thing that had happened with Tommy, Ada, and Freddie Thorne throughout adolescence repeated itself with Finn, Clara, and Isiah Jesus a decade and a half later.

But Polly couldn't be entirely sure how such things would go. Clara wasn't so much like her big sister in many ways. And Clara was still at the point where the neighborhood boys weren't much more than a bother to her. So aside from a little questioning here and there to test Clara's station on the subject of the young men of Small Heath, Polly let the girl's relationship with Isiah Jesus remain what it was, that of an innocent friendship between two children.

But she knew they were getting to be a bit old for the distinction.

"You'll be alright to take this over by yourself? And to heat the soup on the stove if Jeremiah isn't home?" Polly asked, looking at the girl.

She wouldn't have thought twice about it during the war. Those kids had been back and forth between houses as if the two places were connected, but that was when Isiah's grandmother was still around and all the men were far away.

"It's just down the way." Clara dismissed her aunt's concerns as she tidied the small mess that she had made from her breakfast. "I can manage just fine by myself."

Polly snorted lightly. Clara had always been halfway to an adult, even at the age of four, almost what one could call annoyingly proper but it had started coming out more with age. She could tell that Clara was eager to go, excited not only by the notion of whiling away the day with her companion but also for the solitary journey there and back.

Isiah had been sick for the better part of a week and the Shelbys had made it their business to stop by to drop off food and check in on the boy. Seeing as Jeremiah was busy with Blinder business and there was no woman in the home, Tommy said it was the least they could do.

Clara hadn't had a chance for a proper visit aside from a quick drop off with Polly since she had school all week but today was Saturday and Clara didn't have anywhere special to be. When Polly didn't fight her on leaving the house alone, Clara gathered up her book and some papers in one hand and took the basket in the other as she headed towards the door.

"Should I expect that you'll be with that boy all afternoon?"

Clara answered with a shrug. "If Siah's up to it. I'm supposed to show him my new book."

"Well, make sure you keep your distance. If you're reading with him, you do it from a chair in the corner. And keep a window open. Don't need you to be getting yourself sick."

"Where else would she be doing it from?" Tommy asked, settling his cap on his head as he stepped towards the pair.

Polly gave Tommy a look. They both knew exactly the spot his sister would take when caring for a sick Isiah Jesus and that's the spot right beside him. Even if she didn't know it about herself, Clara loved the idea of playing caretaker, teacher, or helper to whoever would let her. Isiah was a willing abettor, especially in his current state.

Tommy knew that the twins and Isiah were close, which was mostly his doing. His letters home had come close to ordering that the Jesus boy and the grandmother be treated like family.

Polly hadn't questioned it. They were good people. And as a result, the kids spent many nights while the boys were away at war having sleepovers in one living room or the other. Tommy put a quick stop to that once he was home though, sending Clara up the stairs to her own bed whenever her eyes started to droop. If she was old enough to not want to share a room with her twin brother, there was no reason for her to be sharing the couch with a neighborhood boy as far as Tommy was concerned.

"Maybe I should just take the food over and check in on him myself," Tommy said, a hand on the basket as he tried to take it from her.

"No, Tommy!" Clara howled, stepping out of his reach. "You're takin' Finn to the fair and you said if I don't make a fuss about not coming along, I get to go see Siah for the day. And you told me the doctor said he was better so it doesn't much matter where I sit! He is better, isn't he?"

Tommy smirked, shaking his head at the fright in her voice. "The boy's doing better, but—"

"It's not funny, Tommy. Siah's sick and he's been stuck inside for days and—"

"And for a girl who promised not to make a fuss, you're sure making quite a big one right now."

"Because you're being a prat, Tommy. He's sick and you're making daft jokes!"

Tommy swatted at her once, a quick, sharp movement that made her jump away from him. She sent a glare his way.

She was only getting worked up because of the report Tommy had given the family earlier in the week. It was succinct, in typical Thomas Shelby fashion, and delivered the news that the Reverend's boy looked like he was an inch from death and that he had had to call the doctor because it was beyond the expertise of Jeremiah, who had served as a medic in the war. That was the day after Clara had been to see him with Polly. She knew it was bad because the Shelbys didn't call the doctor for something unless it was serious and even then, most of the time they just sorted it out with little more than a bottle of liquor.

Polly rolled her eyes at the two of them. Tommy's head was tilted to the side, an eyebrow raised and Clara's right foot was perfectly poised to stomp. Polly took the path of least resistance and turned her niece towards her.

"And you're a very good friend to that boy for worrying and taking care of him. Don't you pay any mind to your brother's teasing."

"Don't be telling my sister—"

"Oh, you hush, Thomas," Polly hissed.

Clara peeked at her brother, a smirk on her lips at his being chastised and Polly turned Clara back in her direction before they got into it again.

"And you don't be using words you're not yet grown enough for, understood? Leave it to me to decide if your brother's being a prat."

Polly smoothed down Clara's hair before pulling a hat down over her head and rearranging her scarf. Though it was getting to be the start of spring, it was still early morning and even without stepping outside, Polly could feel the air outside was damp and cool.

"Now, you tell that boy Aunt Polly says hello and you let him rest some. Don't be pestering him all day if he needs the rest."

Clara nodded dutifully.

Tommy buttoned his jacket before opening the door, waiting for her to step out of it.

"But Aunt Polly said I can go myself," she said, stopping two steps from the door and crossing her full arms over her chest.

"That's enough, Clara. I'm walking you over," Tommy said.

Clara hesitated only a moment before her shoulders slumped and she walked towards the door. Tommy was in a decent mood and though she had been looking forward to the briefest taste of freedom, it certainly wasn't worth the risk. Tommy nodded his cap to Polly, taking the basket of food from Clara as she passed.

The two walked in what Clara found to be a comfortable silence for several minutes, and she got lost deep within her own thoughts before Tommy spoke up.

"Would you like to know a secret?" Tommy asked.

"No," she said, scuffing her feet along, her arms holding her book tightly to her chest.

"No?"

Clara glanced up at him.

"Maybe Finn would like to know," she suggested with a shrug.

Tommy swallowed his desire to chuckle. "I'm sure he would but Finn's not as good with secrets as you are."

Clara knew that from personal experience. Finn was just as good at collecting information as he was at sharing it. She was surprised that Tommy hadn't yet found out about the gun or about her wandering off. She supposed that self-preservation was the only thing that had a way of making Finn keep his mouth shut.

"He's not as good at behaving either but you're still taking him to the fair instead of me."

"I can bring you back 'round to the house if you'd like that arrangement better."

Clara looked up quickly to see if he was being serious. Though he wasn't smiling, there was something in his eyes that seemed too soft to follow through on a threat. Clara smirked at him and the right corner of his lip moved upward just the tiniest bit before he looked straight ahead as they continued down the lane.

"Well, this secret's about a horse," Tommy finally said.

"We're getting another horse?" Clara asked, taking hold of Tommy's arm in an attempt to slow him down and bring his attention back to her.

"Oh, so now you're interested?" Tommy said, letting her hand slip from his forearm to grasp his fingers.

"Well, are we?"

"Johnny Dogs has got a nice one. Says he'll bet me the car for the horse."

"But—"

"Don't worry. He won't be getting the car."

"Better not be. Arthur'll be mad."

"You let me worry about Arthur…but I may be needing some help with this horse. Do you think you'll be up to the task?"

Clara nodded eagerly. It had been quite some time since the family bought a new horse. Aside from Tommy, it was only the twins who had any sort of interest in being around the yard. Finn mostly just liked to race the horses but Tommy had been sure to teach them both about communicating with and caring for the animals.

"The first thing I'll be needing help with is a name…this one will be a winner."

"I'll have to meet them first."

"You'll come with me to the yard tonight," Tommy said as he knocked on Jeremiah's front door.

When Jeremiah opened the door, Clara gave a quick hello before she dropped Tommy's hand bounded up the stairs and towards Isiah's room. He was still in bed, wrapped in a blanket but his face and eyes seemed brighter than when she had last seen him.

"Is that your brother downstairs?" Isiah croaked, his voice sounding deeper than Clara had ever heard it. She had no way of knowing that she had heard the last of Isiah's high-pitched voice three days before but she giggled at the deep sound coming from him now.

"You sound like an old man."

"Better to be sounding like an old man than hurting like one…What did you bring me?" he asked.

Clara hopped up beside him on the bed, holding out the book for him to see.

"And these," she said, showing off the sweets that she had taken from the basket and stashed away in her pocket before coming upstairs.

Isiah smiled, popping one into his mouth as Clara did the same.

When Clara heard her brother shout her name, she scurried off the bed and pulled open the bedroom door, looking down the steps to where Tommy stood.

"Jeremiah and I are heading out. Be home before supper."

With the candy still held in her mouth, Clara nodded once and waited for Tommy to step away before heading back to Isiah's room.

Even though Tommy had told her to sit in the chair across the room, she found herself on the bed beside him. Isiah couldn't see the words if she sat in the chair and when they read a book, they liked to take turns. Clara hopped up on the bed beside him.

Clara had already read the book they were reading as a school assignment but she didn't mind reading it again. Isiah didn't get to go to school but he wasn't stupid. His dad had made sure he could read and write, which was more than could be said than what her family had done for Finn who could barely do either.

With their backs to the wall and their legs under a shared blanket, Isiah read aloud as Clara rested her eyes. _The Secret Garden_ was too easy for both of them but Clara had liked the story well enough and Isiah had never read it.

Clara let Isiah's deep voice paint the picture of the bungalow where Mary Lennox had been left after the cholera outbreak. She was quietly wondering if the idea of a book beginning with sick people dying was the best choice considering Isiah's current condition but his voice didn't waver and he didn't give pause to the content so Clara settled in until it was her turn to read.

Rather than Isiah nudging her with his shoulder to alert her that it was her turn, the sound of screams and whistles outside caught her attention. Clara climbed over Isiah's legs to look out the small window above the back alley and he wasn't far behind, leaning over her shoulder. It didn't give them much by the way of gathering intelligence seeing as all the shouts were coming from the front but Clara craned her neck through the window once she opened it anyway.

As the front door was forced open on the floor below them, Isiah pulled Clara back, making sure that he stood between her and the door. It was only moments before a copper stood on the threshold of Isiah's bedroom.

Clara didn't recognize the man. He wasn't anyone that the Blinders worked with.

"What do you want?" Isiah said, his newly deep voice giving him an air of authority that wouldn't have been there before. Barely fourteen, he had no right to have any semblance of an air of authority.

The copper laughed. "Look what we 'ave here, quite an interesting pair. What's a pretty little thing like you doing at this end of town?"

The man reached forward to grab Clara's arm but Isiah stood his ground, landing a solid punch on the man's cheek though Clara -objected. Her brothers could fight any men in Small Heath and probably win but Clara knew that a couple of kids didn't have much weight on their own.

The copper shoved Isiah to the floor, a boot landing hard in his stomach before Clara jumped forward, shoving at the man until he backed away from Isiah long enough that he turned his attention to her.

"Brave one, are we?" he asked, a smirk on his face before he backhanded her hard enough that she spun in a circle before landing hard on Isiah's floor. The man had turned back to Isiah, who was nearly motionless where he lay on the floor. Clara latched onto the man's leg, holding as tightly as she could. He grabbed Clara by her hair, pulling her to her feet and then some.

"Eh, Walsh, that's the little Shelby girl. Leave it. No one here but these two."

It was another copper, sticking his fat head through the door.

"Fuckin' Shelbys," the first said as he roughly took her chin in his hands. "It's born in you. The whole lot of you are filthy, worthless gypsy scum."

"My brother—" Clara didn't get to finish her sentence before the officer flung her across the room and into Isiah's dresser.

* * *

Clara didn't remember getting home but she woke up on the couch in her family's front sitting room, her body jolting when she felt a figure against her at stretching out her arms above her head.

"How are you feeling?" the low voice asked, a lopsided smile coming out from behind a busted lip.

Clara pushed herself up but regretted it as she felt a distinct pain in her head and an unyielding ache throughout her body.

"Like we fought some coppers."

"You did fight some coppers," Ada said as she came in the room with two cups and a kettle for tea. "Isiah says you're rather scrappy."

"Are you—" Clara's mind flashed the picture of the man kicking Isiah in the stomach, to the sound of the repeated impact.

"I'm alright, Clara."

"But he was—"

"I'm alright. We both are."

"How did we…I don't remember…"

"Isiah brought you home first thing once the streets calmed," Ada said, sitting down on the coffee table, facing the two of them. "Here, have some of this. It'll help…both of you."

Clara took one sip and knew it wasn't just any cup of tea but Ada had sweetened it to the point where the alcohol was barely noticeable.

"Are you trying to get me drunk, Ada Shelby?" Isiah asked after a sip.

"I'm trying to give you a bit of bloody relief. You've had a day, the two of you. No need to be suffering through the night as well. Just don't tell anyone I gave it to you."

"Where is everybody?"

"Well, you know how our brother likes to make scenes… so he's built a fire out of the king's portraits."

Neither Isiah or Ada could stop Clara from stepping to the front door and looking down to the far end of Watery Lane where a crowd had formed around a circle of flames. Ada let her watch for a few moments before calling her back inside. Both kids needed their rest.

Clara didn't argue, gladly snuggling back up under the blankets to finish sipping her tea.

It was hours later when Tommy made it home to find Clara and Isiah asleep on the couch while Polly watched them from the table in the next room over.

"Have you fixed it?" she said.

"We've recovered." Tommy took a seat beside his aunt. "How are they?"

"They'll be fine. Want me to help you get her upstairs?"

Tommy glanced at the kids sleeping peacefully in the next room. Even Finn had made his way there after the fire, falling asleep in the chair with his feet up on a small ottoman.

"No, Pol. We should just let the kids sleep," Tommy said before standing and heading up the stairs for bed himself.


	7. Congratulations

**Congratulations**

 _1919_

Polly watched Clara idly tap her fingers on the table. She was making only the slightest bit of noise but it was still distracting Polly from her reading so she cleared her throat.

"Maybe I'll just go and—"

"You let your sister rest," Polly said, fixing her niece with a look over the top of her newspaper. Polly was still comfortably clothed in her robe and bedclothes from the night before, having stayed over.

Clara was dressed for the day at her Uncle Charlie's yard, which meant that she donned some old trousers of her twin's and one of her brother's caps. Polly had already braided her hair, a long blonde plait falling over her shoulder. Aside from the braid, she looked like one of the boys from Watery Lane.

"But resting is all Ada ever does. She's rested enough."

"Your sister had a long night and you should be kind to her."

Clara slumped down to rest her chin on folded arms. Polly didn't miss the girl's narrowed eyes but she let it slide. She quite liked that Clara had a spine. A woman needed one both in this family and in Birmingham.

"Maybe you could bring me then?" Clara said, the words barely making their way to Polly's ears before Clara turned away from her.

"Excuse me?" Polly glanced at Clara.

"You're not busy…and it's not much past the church."

When Clara finally met her aunt's eyes, she mumbled a softened request. "Please?"

Polly tossed the paper down in front of her and sat up straighter in the chair.

"The way I see it, you shouldn't be anywhere near those horses after what happened. You should be right back in that bed resting or on your way to school. If you're well enough to go the yard, you're well enough to be back to learning."

"But Tommy said—"

"Oh yes, _but Tommy said_ ," Polly answered, waving her off with a hand.

Polly was well aware of all her nephew had to say in regards to his youngest sister.

For one, he had seen to it that the coppers who hurt their girl and the Jesus boy were taken care of. As of midday following the incident, the coopers had found themselves confined to a pair of hospital beds. Oddly enough, not a soul in the neighborhood had been able to testify as to who had attacked the men.

And then there was the matter of Clara's injuries. She claimed to be feeling well enough but Tommy wanted to keep her home from school for the week. He said the family didn't need to be answering any questions about the bruises covering the girl's face and body. Beyond that, he had ordered around the clock supervision for her. Clara wasn't aware of anything other than a little extra attention while her body healed.

Though Polly didn't agree with Tommy bringing her to the stables, she couldn't argue with her nephew on the other items.

Ada was meant to be walking to the yard with Clara, serving as her unofficial morning escort as Arthur and John were busy elsewhere on Blinder business. Tommy had been there since a bit before dawn but seeing as Clara was still recovering, he had left her sleeping, a note with his instructions on the end table beside her head.

Her slumber hadn't lasted much past the time Tommy headed out through the front door. Even in what most would consider an infirmed state, Clara was an early riser. Like Polly and Tommy, she had the curse of waking much too early in a family that bred chronically late risers. Ada, John, Arthur, and Finn all enjoyed a good, late lie in most days.

After getting dressed for the day, Clara had come back to the front sitting room to wake the boys. Both Finn and Isiah had spent the better part of the weekend with her, sleeping over on the couches and floor, keeping her company when the others ordered for her to sit and rest. It had been like the days during the war, except her older brothers were in and out of the house all weekend.

Clara had made a small breakfast for the three of them before sending Isiah on his way back home. The way Clara saw it, she and her brother had horse business to attend to and there wasn't much in the world she would allow to get in the way of that. Tommy's note had told her to have Ada bring 'round to the yard when she woke up, but no later than nine.

When she finally received Polly's approval, Clara climbed the stairs with a plate of bread and jam and a small cup of tea for her sister. She didn't wait for an answer after tapping on the bedroom door with the toe of her shoe. Ada usually liked to groan loudly or toss something in the direction of the bedroom door when interrupted but Clara didn't hear signs of either action even after she began pushing the door open.

Ada was already up and clothed in an old dress with a thick sweater pulled tightly across her chest. She barely glanced up when Clara came through the door, her face making no change as Clara offered a small smile.

Clara turned from her sister, depositing the tray on a bed that didn't look to be slept in and joined her sister by the window, trying to see whatever Ada was seeing down on Watery Lane. As far as Clara could see, the streets were empty and the sky was nothing more than a hazy grey. It was an unremarkable view and an unremarkable morning.

"Do you remember Martha being pregnant the last time? With little Robbie?"

Ada was still looking out the window as she spoke the words.

Clara stayed silent as she thought about it before deciding that she didn't remember very much about that time, not specifically. It had been in the immediate aftermath of the boys leaving for war. The family hadn't even known Martha was pregnant when Arthur, Tommy, and John left for France. She supposed if she thought hard enough, she remembered Martha having a swollen belly under her dress. Clara had been just about to turn six then.

"You and Finn were still little," Ada finally conceded. "But I remember her always wanting these biscuits that John had gotten for her when she was pregnant with Katie. And the bakery that made them had closed, so you and Finn helped me make them here."

Clara thought maybe the reason she didn't clearly remember her sister-in-law being pregnant was that for most of Clara's childhood, John's wife had been in that precise condition. It would be a far stranger thing for Clara to remember Martha when she wasn't with child.

"I don't remember that."

A smile briefly passed Ada's lips.

"Our mother had to have bacon cakes and chocolate one right after the other. She said that's how she knew there were two of you. And that you each had different tastes, personalities of your own, you and Finn, even in the womb."

Ada remembered the birth of the twins like it was yesterday though it had been eleven years earlier. It had been the day that she was no longer the baby of the family and the day that she gained an intrinsic ally in the form of a sister.

* * *

 _1908_

While the Shelbys waited for their mother to give birth, Arthur had decided it was as good of a time as any to remind each of his siblings of their entrances into the world. He, like Aunt Polly, had been around for every birth following his own, which was more than their father could say.

The first four Shelbys had been born on a narrowboat, The January. It seemed to be a trend, Mrs. Shelby finding herself on that boat when she was due to bring a child into the world whether it was 1887, 1890, 1895, or 1897, whether or not they were living on the boat or in the house on Watery Lane.

Tommy had been born in the wee hours of the morning. The baby had been wrapped in a bundle of blankets in his mother's arms when Arthur crawled out of the cabin asking for his breakfast. That was when they still lived on the boat, when the Shelbys had been little more than a family of water gypsies.

John had been a lengthy, difficult birth somewhere near lunchtime, shortly after they had moved to the home on Watery Lane. Tommy and Arthur had been told to stay home but at five and eight, they weren't much for doing as they were told and instead elected to follow along on the edge of the cut while the boat traveled on.

Then there was Ada. She had been a morning birth as well, quick and easy because she was so small and over a month earlier than expected. Arthur had been there only because he had gone to look for his mother, the woman never making her way home the night before.

The latest birth, during a particularly cold bit of winter in 1908, was the first to happen in a house, not on a boat, the first which had had a captive audience including all four Shelby children.

Ada had always liked it when Arthur told the stories of the Shelby kids' births, his face healthy with pride as he spoke of the brothers and sisters he was pleased to call his own. She liked imagining her older brothers as babies, imagining a three-year-old Arthur coming out of the boat's cabin to discover a new brother. The stories even brought a hint of a smile to Tommy's face.

It wasn't too long into Arthur's storytelling that a cry rang out from the other room and Ada ran to the door to wait for their Aunt Polly to emerge. The baby boy, who would come to be called Finn, was exceptionally large for a newborn and came near to eleven o'clock that night. Polly stroked his soft cheek for just a moment before passing him off to Arthur.

Her work attending to her sister-in-law was far from finished.

"Well, that explains why Mum was so bloody large this time," John said when Polly announced that another baby was coming.

Ada hadn't been able to stop herself from giggling. Their mother had been large, even by pregnancy standards.

Tommy smacked John in the back of the head just then. "Shut it, John. Ada, maybe you should be in there helping." Tommy nodded towards the room where their mother was groaning loud enough for them to hear. "You can see for yourself what kissing all those boys will do for you."

Ada's face grew sour under Tommy's stare, no longer finding the prospect of her mother swollen with two babies particularly funny.

Arthur continued to hold his baby brother in his arms, doting on the little boy as they waited for a second child to arrive. Ada sat close to Arthur but couldn't have gotten her hands on the baby if she tried. Finn would be lost to the band of brothers and with everything Ada had in her, she wished for a little sister to come next.

Tommy had been hoping to be on his way to the pub for a night of dancing by this time in the evening but it seemed like his new sibling was determined to keep that from happening. Tommy was relatively ambivalent about the idea of more children entering the family. He was eighteen and though he still lived at home, it no longer felt like the new babies would be siblings in the same way Arthur, John, and Ada were.

His mother had been weak before the pregnancy. She was weak in a way most people would readily describe as sickly. He supposed that's why she had elected on giving birth here in the house rather than on the narrowboat. She was weary and frail.

Tommy was fairly certain that bearing children wouldn't help that matter. And with their father largely absent, help would be needed. Arthur and Tommy had already picked up some of the slack with rearing Ada and John. They didn't think anything about stepping in. But babies, babies were different. They would be a bit more effort.

Despite the absence of a decent male role model to show them the way of things, Arthur and Tommy knew how to care for their own. To Tommy's dismay, he knew that meant he would likely be missing his date. It was something he had been looking forward to, the date, but he felt some unspoken obligation to be around when the babies were born.

"Are they still twins if they're born on different days?" Ada asked, leaning over Arthur's arm to rub her finger against the little boy's cheek. It was already nearing midnight and there was no sign of the second baby.

"Yes, Ada," Tommy answered.

He had taken up post leaning against the mantel of the fireplace, smoking one of his cigarettes, still close to the door and donning his jacket and cap as if he would be heading out at any moment.

"Do you think the other one might be a girl?" Ada said.

"Aunt Pol seems to think so," Tommy said, finally accepting that his date wasn't happening. He plopped down beside his siblings on the couch. "And it seems she'll be a right thorn in my side just like you."

Ada smiled as Tommy poked her side, her finger jabbing out to poke him back, eliciting a small laugh from him.

Polly had known it was twins for quite some time, had known that she was due both a nephew and a niece, but she had only let her sister-in-law and Tommy know it. Polly believed the mother-to-be had a right to know what sort of trouble she had to look forward to. And Tommy had asked Polly outright what sort of trouble they were expected. The other kids hadn't been nearly as curious or direct.

Tommy had used the information purely for planning purposes. Brothers would grow up to be Peaky Blinders. Sisters would be a bit more work. If she was smart, someone would need to pay for her school, and she would need marrying, a bit more protection, and looking after along the way. A large part of him hoped Polly was wrong. He hoped for two brothers in place one of each, but Polly Gray wasn't often wrong.

With Arthur Sr. pledging his latest leave to be a permanent one, more responsibility would fall to the eldest brothers. Tommy accepted it as his obligation without discussing it with Arthur or John. Someone needed to pay for the babies, raise them to be good Shelbys. Tommy let Arthur, John, and Ada coddle and coo at the small bundle they passed back and forth, knowing fully well that the hard things would belong to him, their mother, and Polly.

It was well into the morning hours and Tommy was tired, having been awake since before six in the morning. He had spent the day with Uncle Charlie and Curly at the yard, working with the horses. Still, he waited, fighting against his heavy eyelids while his siblings snoozed, Arthur and John slouched in their armchairs while Ada curled up beside the baby, swaddled in blankets on the floor.

"Here's our girl, Thomas."

He looked up at Polly as she came through the door.

"Quick. Take your sister," she said, slipping the baby into his arms, making certain he supported her head and neck before releasing her grip.

Tommy couldn't recall the last time he had held a baby, Ada's birth, he supposed. He had been seven then and still just a boy.

His new sister, the quiet, serene bundle, was a slight little thing compared to her bulky twin. The features of her soft face, the miniature fingers, grasping towards him, they seemed smaller to Tommy yet he felt a great weight settle on him as he held her.

He had gotten lost for a moment, taking in the delicate rosy tint on her smooth cheeks, the small tuft of blonde hair. He hadn't properly heard his aunt ordering the others around, lifting the now crying boy into her arms as she handed him to Arthur.

His sister's cry pulled him from his reverie as she joined in on her brother's wailing.

"Set of lungs on her, eh?" Arthur said. "Let's get a look at these two singers. Hold her out."

Arthur held the boy out in front of them. "C'mon, Tom. Let's see my sister."

Tommy obliged, holding the girl out beside her twin, finding that she looked even smaller now in comparison.

"Well, look at that. I suppose they missed each other."

Arthur smiled looking between them. "We'll have our hands full, won't we Tom? Another bloody sister. It'll be good for Ada to have a girl to dote on, eh?"

Tommy nodded, not taking his eyes away from the girl in his hands. Holding her now, he couldn't imagine wishing for another brother and he didn't imagine Ada would be the only one doting on her.

When John returned within a quarter of an hour, out of breath and red in the face, the doctor was allowed in the room but Pol shooed the boys away.

"Pol!" Tommy snapped, a hand pushing against the wood when she tried to shut the bedroom door.

Polly frowned, cupping his cheek for just a moment. "Thomas, your mother will be alright. Just tend to your brothers and sisters."

Mrs. Shelby had been alright as she could be after losing that much blood, at least for a time. She hadn't made it to see the twins turn one but she had had some good months with them. Even if she had gone what the kids had considered a bit wonky in the end, rambling about the spirits, they had always told the kids about their mother, making sure they knew who had brought them into the world, who had loved them, in her own way, more than she cared for herself.

* * *

Clara listened to Ada talk about their mother and about the day she and Finn had been born as if she had never heard the story before. The story told differently depending on which Shelby was telling it, each person's recollection of the time marred by their age or perception.

Ada didn't bother to tell her little sister what Polly had told her the night before, that their mother had considered not having the twins. She said it after Ada made it known she wouldn't get rid of the baby growing inside of her _._

 _"A sentimental fool just like your mother,"_ Polly had said.

Ada released a whimper at the thought. She couldn't imagine their home without the twins, without her only sister.

Clara didn't ever remember seeing Ada like this. Her sister was characteristically dramatic but something in this was more authentic, more painful than Clara was used to. "Ada?"

Ada didn't speak right away but her eyes, blue and pooling with the beginnings of tears, bore into Clara's. "I'm going to have a baby, Clara."

Clara hugged her sister close and Ada hugged her back for a long time, neither one saying a word as Clara diligently rubbed circles on Ada's back and kissed her sister's head. When Ada finally backed away, she rubbed her eyes.

"Freddie's the father," she conceded though Clara hadn't asked.

"I know," Clara said, clasping her hand over Ada's.

The boys could make all the jokes they wanted about Ada going around with a wide selection of boys but Clara knew that Freddie was the only rumor with any real clout. Freddie Thorne had always been Ada's boy, her love.

"Freddie's a good man, Ada. He'll come home."

Ada forced a smile at her younger sister, wishing that Clara's confidence could be contagious. Ada pulled the girl in for a hug once more. Her little arms had been more welcoming than Polly's had been the night before, sincerer and warmer.

"Congratulations."

Clara mumbled the word into Ada's shoulder. She was being squeezed against, her mouth squished up against Ada's cardigan.

Confusion passed over Ada's features for a moment as she considered the word. The confirmation of her pregnancy, of the true existence of the life she would be bringing into this world had been nothing close to a celebration. Ada took a deep breath to let that sink in. She pulled away from the hug, placing her cool hands to Clara's cheeks.

"Let's get you over to Uncle Charlie's."

"Where are you going to go?"

Ada shrugged. "There's a picture this afternoon."

"I'll come with you."

"I'm supposed to drop you with Tommy."

"I want to be with you."


	8. The Contender

**The Contender**

 _1919_

Though Ada and Clara had already finished over half of their shared portion of popcorn, the girls weren't more than ten minutes into the film. After her confession, Ada dolled Clara up, letting her apply a bit of her makeup, braiding her hair in a special style. The sisters had gone for a light lunch and they were ending their afternoon in a dark, cool theatre.

It was the type of day that Clara Shelby dreamed of, going out on the town with her sister. Since deciding to stay with Ada rather than making her way to Uncle Charlie's yard, Clara hadn't given her brother a second thought.

Clara forced an uncomfortable smile when she saw Tommy standing at the end of the row of chairs but she hadn't needed to. He wasn't even looking at her. Tommy's cool blue eyes focused only on Ada as he slipped into the open seat beside Clara.

She didn't much like the idea of being settled between the two of them, anger already rolling off both in waves, but Clara didn't see an alternative.

Tommy leaned across Clara's seat, looking at Ada though she continued to stare straight ahead at the screen. Tommy's position pinned Clara back in the seat and she found herself holding in her breath as her body molded into the red velvet.

"Tell me the man's name, Ada."

"Rudolph Valentino," Ada said, her tone flat, almost bored as she over-annunciated each syllable.

Clara smirked. She hadn't even known the name Rudolph Valentino before going to the pictures today but she still recognized her sister as very clever for coming up with it now. Clara also recognized that being in the mood their brother appeared to be in, he wasn't typically very fond of cleverness. Tommy turned his eye on Clara and she attempted to shrink into Ada's side but she quickly ran out of the room.

After fixing Clara with a glare sufficiently long that she wasn't sure she would ever smirk at him again, Tommy stood up rather quickly and left the theatre. Clara had just gotten through breathing a sigh full of relief when Ada rolled her eyes.

The screen went dark and the lights in the theatre came on.

"Ah, here we fucking go," she muttered as Tommy came back, shouting as he made his way down the aisle. "That brother of yours is a real fucking gem, Clara."

"Get out! All of you! Go on! Now!"

Tommy ushered the other patrons out of the theatre before heading back towards the girls, his stride appearing to grow in length and determination to reach them more quickly. Tommy stopped at the end of the aisle, looming over his sisters.

"I said tell me his fucking name, Ada."

Ada stared ahead at the screen, continuing to munch on her popcorn.

Clara hoped for the same courage that Ada seemed to possess in defiantly ignoring the boys whenever she pleased. She wished for the same bit of pluck that permitted Ada to stand up to the Shelby boys, the capacity to willfully do as she'd like in the same way Ada always seemed to.

Instead, Clara's blood pumped so diligently that she could hear each distinct beat of her heart very clearly in her ears. Each of Tommy's movements, overflowing with frustration and the morsel of rage that Clara usually tried to avoid, caused her to flinch and she felt herself withdrawing as far as the plush of the seat would allow.

When Tommy realized he wasn't getting anywhere questioning Ada, he rounded on his youngest sister. She let out a slight, nervous whine in response to the movement.

"Right, Clara, you tell me the fucking man's name."

Tommy inched forward, grabbing Clara's arm and pulling her to her feet when she didn't immediately respond. She gulped hard under Tommy's grasp, momentarily unable to come up with anything that could resemble either the answer Tommy wanted or an errant comeback like Ada would provide.

It had been after Clara first sighted them together that Ada had explained that under no circumstances was Clara to utter the name Freddie Thorne in mixed company. Ada had been sure to clarify that Tommy and Freddie hated each other, for one reason or another, and that if Clara cared for either Ada or Freddie, she wouldn't tell the brothers or another living soul for that matter, where Ada snuck off to most days.

And because Clara did very much care for Freddie Thorne and her sister, she kept her mouth tightly shut. Freddie had been around since she was a baby, the closest friend to Tommy before the war. He had been almost like another brother back then. And even now whenever she happened to meet him on the street or when she had the chance to visit him with Ada after months of incessant begging, he seemed to be essentially the same Freddie.

Tommy was getting impatient with Clara's silence. "If you don't—"

"Oh, let her be, Thomas!" Ada growled, glaring at Tommy until he released the grip on Clara's arm, letting her fall back into the theatre seat. "It's Freddie fucking Thorne!"

Ada had gone on past that admission and was continuing to shout at Tommy but Clara had tuned it all out, focusing on her shoes.

"And you fucking knew?" Tommy asked, almost calm again, the shout leaving his voice.

At first, Clara didn't register that he had even been talking to her, but when she glanced up, Tommy was staring in her direction. Clara stared back at him, unsure what answer he could be searching for.

"I'll take that as a fucking yes. You, come on with me."

Clara stayed beside her sister, firmly rooted in her chair.

"That meant now, Clara!" he roared.

"Fuck off, Thomas. She's staying with me."

Ada grabbed Clara's hand in her own.

Tommy looked between his two sisters. The three of them had already made a grand public scene and dragging the little girl out of there and down the streets back home wouldn't've made much difference but he decided to let them be.

"Is that how it's going to be?" Tommy asked Clara. "You think you're a big, clever girl now, so you're going to lie and scheme against your brother? You're going to side with a contemptible fucking communist who's going to leave our Ada a whore and her baby a bastard? You're a silly child in her sister's rouge," he said, roughly pinching her cheek. "And you're a simple-minded one at that."

Clara shoved at Tommy now, pushing him hard enough that he stumbled back half a pace. "Be quiet, Tommy! Ada's not a whore and I'd rather have Freddie for a brother than you. He's a better, kinder man than you'll ever be."

Ada hadn't ever heard the two of them talk to one another that way. Tommy was always remarkably gracious towards Clara, always talking about how smart she was compared to the rest of them, and Clara hadn't often dared to be anything other than respectful towards their brother. Ada couldn't be sure how Tommy would respond to the words or the shove, but she had the forethought to pull the bristling girl to stand behind her before he had the chance to react.

Stuck behind Ada's back, Clara didn't see the seething look pass between her brother and her sister. Ada's glare was full of resentment borne from years of maintaining a secret relationship with Freddie Thorne just to maintain the status quo. It was full of missed dates, and dances and dinners she never had, and of men thinking that she was available when her heart was entirely spoken for. It was full of the handful of hateful comments Tommy had made about Freddie Thorne over the past year to which Ada hadn't ever responded.

Tommy's look was full of betrayal, for Ada and Freddie had been sleeping around without him knowing it. He should have known and he felt like an idiot for not putting it all together before another member of the Shelby family was in the works. And the look was full of infuriation for what Ada's relationship and pregnancy had brought out in his Clara. The baby of the family spoke to him like she thought he was the scum of the earth and he laid the blame for that, not on himself, but on Ada and Freddie.

"Just go and fuck off, Thomas," Ada said, surprised when Tommy did just that, leaving the girls alone to slump back into their seats.

It was mere moments before Ada was screaming for the picture to be back on.

Clara placed her hand in her sister's, squeezing once before the beginnings of Ada's sob echoed through the emptiness of the theatre. They hadn't gone home until two additional shows had passed them by.

* * *

The next morning, in the warmth of Ada's shared bed, Clara lied awake beside her older sister under three layers of blankets. Despite her many years of sharing beds that were far too small to be accommodating more than one Shelby, Clara hadn't slept well. After barely any genuine rest, she woke before the sun, unable to fall back into a contented slumber once her eyes spotted the first marks of daylight.

Instead, she laid flat on her back listening to the sounds of the house and watching out the window as the sky shifted from dark blue to pale grey. She tried to keep herself reasonably still as Ada continued to doze, shifting only once to relieve a distinctive pain in her right leg from lying still on it all night. Though Clara hadn't slept at all well herself, she didn't want to wake her sister now.

Ada's sleep had been fitful and fairly restless, moving from junctures of deep snores to moments of frenzied twisting and turning. Throughout the night, Clara had attempted to soothe her sister through the more agitated flashes. She had little success despite employing the tried and true methods the Shelbys had always used with her, soothing fingers detangling the hair, gentle shushing sounds, comforting back rubs, and even the soft humming of a familiar tune. The only thing she hadn't tried was reading to Ada from a book, and that was only because she had been too scared to step into the hall to go get one.

The girls had been up late, chatting like a set of inseparable twins rather than two sisters born more than eleven years apart. A level of comfort had settled between them that had never been there before. They had both relished that closeness, not questioning it in the slightest.

Clara hadn't ever spent so much time in Ada's room and she committed the room to memory while she laid awake in her sister's bed. Ada didn't have any books or papers or art supplies like Clara. Makeup covered the surface of her vanity. Random articles of clothing were strewn across the room, hanging off of the various odds and ends. There were a few particular items that Clara knew to be their mother's. Those items were carefully hung in the wardrobe, safe from the chaos. Clara somehow knew that she would remember this time, all that was happening with Tommy and Ada and the baby, for the rest of her life.

The sound of the front door slamming startled Clara and she rolled out of her sister's bed, stumbling across the hall to her room. For the first time in a long while, Clara wasn't eager to be back at school. She longed for something that wasn't no. 6 Watery Lane or her local school in Small Heath or Uncle Charlie's yard or the betting shop.

With the copper attack and with the business with Ada, things just didn't feel right by Clara's standards, not in Small Heath, and certainly not within the Shelby family. And although she didn't know much about what there was beyond the few Birmingham haunts she frequented, Clara imagined whatever it was had to be better in some way.

The quiet of the house had her thinking that it wasn't yet too late in the morning. She assumed Finn had simply headed out early, forgetting that she would be coming along back to school today, forgetting that they typically made the short journey through Small Heath together. Clara took her time getting dressed and traipsed down the back steps to find some breakfast.

The kitchen, dining room, and parlor were empty and dark. In the silence of the first floor, Clara noticed that the betting shop door had been left ajar, the distant glow of a lamp passing through to illuminate the dining room floor.

Through a gap in the curtains, Clara could see that the grayness of the day, with its heavy cloud cover and a general sense of dreariness, required the use of light if one was to do anything more than feeling their way through a room. The light spilling into the house came from Tommy's office where he was seated at the old desk. Clara leaned against the door frame, the toes of her shoes just barely touching the threshold to the shop as she watched him, his attention focused solely on a pile of open books.

Clara thought that her brother looked like hell, with his damp, matted down hair and dark sunken eyes. Looking at him, she questioned whether Tommy had ever even gone to sleep. Clara continued to study him for a few moments, taking in all she could of his demeanor while she remained unnoticed.

Tommy looked up when he felt his sister's presence, his eyes meeting Clara's straightaway. His features were worryingly neutral. Pale lips formed a straight line across his face and his eyes seemed cold and distant as he stared back at her. Clara took that to mean that he was still angry about things.

Tommy tilted the golden clock on his desk towards him as he glanced at the time. Clara heard the scraping of wood on wood, but she had already moved away from the shop doors, swiftly sliding into a seat at the table as his footsteps approached.

Clara's school things were piled neatly on the sideboard where she had placed them the day before and she reached back, pulling the bundle to the table. As Tommy's footsteps drew closer, Clara busied herself with her books, papers, and pencils.

"Let's go. You're late," he said.

Tommy slipped a hand under her arm, pulling Clara to her feet as he stepped through the open doorway. She stumbled for a moment, but once she had control of her balance, Tommy released his grip. He slipped into his coat, pulling his cap from the hook before stepping to the door.

Clara quickly dressed in her coat, walking past her brother, and out through the open door without a word. Looking through the side of her eye as she continued to face forward, Clara could see that Tommy had one of his hands shoved deep in a pocket, the other holding her school things. He was walking quickly enough that Clara had to exert a bit of effort to keep up with his stride. It took an effort to keep her eyes on the ground before them, counting steps rather than focusing on the tension-filled silence between them. She noticed that Tommy's black shoes were caked in a layer of dried mud, a new layer being painted on as they made their way down the lane.

* * *

Clara had heard her brother leave home late the night before. It had been raining at the time and there had been quite a commotion out front. Clara and Ada had been avoiding him since returning from the pictures, skipping the family supper, and staying within the confines of Ada's room for the night. They had spent hours whispering in Ada's bed about things that sisters could only really discuss in the absence of brothers.

She had made a single attempt at fetching the two of them some dinner once the smells had wafted up through the floorboards. The attempt had resulted in Polly chasing her out of the kitchen with every intention of giving both girls a piece of her mind and a piece of the wooden spoon in her hand. Clara had stormed up the stairs, pushing past Finn who was on his way down to supper and locked Ada's door while Polly was still en route, halfway between the two floors.

Clara was self-aware enough to know that she didn't know what the absolute right thing to do was in regards to the baby, but she was fairly certain that the decision should be Ada's. She told her Aunt Polly as much through the locked door, the safety of an inch or so of wood, and her earlier success at the theatre allowing the eleven-year-old to speak more boldly than she ever would have to Polly's face.

Polly had threatened a deluge of unpleasant punishments to be delivered at the hands of Tommy, who she claimed would take the door right off the hinge and teach Clara why she shouldn't dare speak to her Aunt Polly that way, but Tommy had never come.

The sisters spent the solitary hours commiserating about how their brother and aunt were handling the situation, and about how their family name and those who shared it controlled their lives. Clara had never had anyone to complain to before and they both savored the feeling of having another's steadfast understanding.

All through their evening alone, a persistent, soothing rain poured against the roof and windows. Neither girl had been particularly concerned with Tommy's late-night departure. Nor had they paid much attention to his extended absence.

* * *

Clara was surprised when she and Tommy suddenly pulled up outside the schoolyard but grateful they had made it without having to explain herself. Tommy still showed no signs of wanting to start a conversation and although she was surprised by his tentativeness, Clara didn't dare question it. She attempted to pull the books from Tommy's arms and took a step towards the school gate. She was already late and waiting around for Tommy to decide whether or not to give her a piece of his mind would only result in her getting shouted at by the teacher for tardiness.

She was half a step away when Tommy cleared his throat.

Clara paused, turning on a heel to face her brother, dropping her grasp on her school things and letting the bundle fall to his side as he still held them.

Tommy had been expecting some sort of guilt-ridden apology from Clara after giving her the silent treatment the night before. He knew better than to expect anything close to repentance from Ada but the youngest Shelby had always been overly apologetic when she was in the wrong. She'd often punish herself with worry and guilt long before he got around to the actual act of disciplining her. And she had been wrong more than once in this instance so he was expecting her to be full more with regrets and less with strength. Tommy suspected that Clara had harvested some of her nerve from Ada.

"I didn't like what happened yesterday."

Clara didn't even open her mouth to answer. She hadn't particularly liked what had happened the day before either but she couldn't imagine that Tommy was interested in hearing that. She settled in for a lecture, leaning against the stone wall separating the schoolyard from the street. The movement provided a few extra measures of distance between them, a necessary safety precaution considering that Clara was having trouble reading her brother.

"This family comes first."

"Ada is family," she said, the first words offered since the day before in the theatre.

"And I am protecting her."

"But—"

"But nothing, Clara. I know you think you're caring for your sister, but I have it under control and I won't have you fighting me or your aunt."

"The baby is family too. Your niece or nephew and mine!"

Tommy just looked at her as he fished out a cigarette with his free hand. He was certain that he didn't have it in him to sort things with Clara now, just like he hadn't had it in him to sort her out the day before at the theatre or last night after she had gotten into it with Pol.

There had been a time when Tommy had been quite certain that he had both of the Shelby girls well under control. He had known their general whereabouts and there was a certain level of understanding with each of the girls for the way of things. Tommy wasn't so sure about how to handle his younger sisters now. He was fairly used to Ada's outbursts, but Clara wasn't often that way, at least not with him. Tommy had seen a different side of her, a different side of both Shelby girls in the preceding twenty-four hours.

There was a small part of him that thought it was about time that Ada and Clara stuck together, but he couldn't deny it was making things more difficult for him. Though he held a certain level of esteem for the parts of Ada that were assertive and passionate and unafraid to call another person out on their bullshit, the idea of those qualities transferring to Clara gave him pain he associated with the beginnings of a headache.

Tommy knew he would have to sort Clara out and get it all under control before she started thinking that things would continue this way, but he didn't want to do it here at her school. And he didn't want to do it until he had had a moment to clear his mind, and maybe to have a few hours of rest. It had been a long night.

"You're finished contending with me, Clara. And I want you straight home after school so we can talk," Tommy finally said, his attention shifting as he watched a young blonde woman on the other side of the street. "If I'm not there, you take a seat at the table and wait for me."

Clara remained in her spot, waiting for him to look at her again but it was fairly clear Tommy was making every effort at ignoring her. At the sound of the teacher's final summons, Clara ripped the bundle from his hand and stalked off towards the school, disappearing into the building without another word or so much as a glance back in his direction.


	9. I Will Not Start Fights

**I Will Not Start Fights**

 _1919_

Clara walked home that afternoon standing between Finn and Isiah, not the point of the triangle but with their strides matching hers. Their plan had been successful even though Clara had ended up sacrificing herself a bit for the cause.

The sacrifice was evidenced by a small bruise on her cheek and the 6 pages of lines in her hand needing a signature from home. In her neatest penmanship, Clara printed, _'I will not start fights,'_ one-hundred and fifty times. It was Miss Masters' way of ensuring that the wayward children were punished twice – once by her and once by whoever handled such matters at home.

Despite the new pain in her cheek and having to write the lines, Clara smiled as she walked home with the boys, delighting in the feeling of both Finn and Isiah being kindhearted and attentive and impressed with her sacrifice. She happily listened to the boys recount their daring work to retrieve the pilfered funds, which Finn now held safe in the bottom of his shoe.

* * *

The original plan hadn't involved any fighting on Clara's part. Finn had been adamant about keeping his sister out of that mess. She had just been meant to do a bit of errant tattling to give her brother and the Watery Lane boys time to corner the Cheapside boys on the far end of the playground and take back what was rightfully theirs.

Clara wasn't the type of child to often get in trouble at school. She wasn't much of a fighter or overly chatty in the classroom. Seeing as she enjoyed learning, she was an eager student and often kept her nose in a book or whatever assignment she had been given. She generally stayed out of Finn's school feuds, but Wallace Bartow, the oldest of the Cheapie boys still in grade school had seemed keen on making that difficult from before she even knew about any plans, stolen money, or fixed races.

Wally hadn't been causing Clara much trouble since the beginning of the school year, which had been due to a combined effort of the young Small Heath boys that considered themselves Peaky Blinders in training. Finn was their uncontested leader and he had the distinct belief that while he was allowed to push Clara around, not a single soul outside of the family was allowed that same privilege. So even when he had spent the last few months distancing himself from his twin sister and teasing her in front of his friends, Finn made a fuss when anyone else tried to do it. But Finn and the other Peaky Boys hadn't been at school that morning.

Clara had been on the receiving end of whispered taunts from the Bartow brothers and their ragtag bunch of Cheapside boys all through the morning classes. She quickly learned that it had really all been on account of the race Finn had lost the week before. Clara hadn't heard a word about it before then, just some silly schoolyard match that had passed while she had been resting at home. Rumor had it the Cheapies had fixed the race and Finn lost the Peaky boys some money.

After a morning of relentless teasing, Clara released a deep, recuperative breath at seeing her twin waiting outside at the lunchtime bell. She had every intention of making him walk her straight home for a meal whether he wanted to go or not. She didn't care if he had plans with his friends. She was hungry. Clara hadn't had anything to eat since the popcorn at the pictures the day before and while she typically asserted her need for independence, she didn't want to be alone on the short trek back to Watery Lane.

"There you are! Where the hell have you been?" he asked. Jumping from the top of the stairs to stand in front of her, Finn immediately tugged the arm of Clara's jacket, walking them both towards the gates.

"You're the one who left without me! Where have you been?"

"Tommy told me to go on without you. I had Blinder business to attend to. But you're needed for a job."

Finn was nearly dragging her towards the street and Clara dug in her heels, feeling the bottoms of her boots slide through a layer of soft mud.

"Finn! Stop it!"

She shoved him hard with her free arm to no avail. Clara didn't remember when her twin had become so strong, didn't remember when he had gained the ability to overtake her with a casual hand on her upper arm. She realized now that to meet Finn's eye, she had to tilt her head up just a bit. It couldn't have been more than an inch of height difference, but Clara imagined that they had always been about the same size before now.

"C'mon, Isiah and the boys are waiting," he said.

Clara glanced beyond Finn and saw Isiah leaning against a wall, two other Small Heath boys standing beside him. Isiah stepped forward, draping an arm over Clara's shoulder and encouraging Finn to drop his grasp. She idly wondered what Isiah was doing around the schoolyard. He was usually out doing odd jobs to drum up some money during the day.

"Finn, what'd you bring a little girl for?"

Clara glared at the speaking boy, but he didn't even look at her. He lived three blocks over and was a newer recruit to their circle.

Isiah squared up his shoulders. "This girl is a Shelby. Show some respect, Jimmy."

The boy looked to Finn, who nodded his approval. "And she may be a Shelby but I don't want my sister doing any of the fighting," Finn said. "She's here as a …an advisor."

"What are you on about?" Clara asked, freeing herself from Isiah's touch.

"I'm talking about getting back at those Cheapside boys. They fixed that race and I intend to get our money back today."

"You can't win a fight against Wally Bartow and he's been on about it the whole morning. We should just let it be."

Wally was a big kid. He wasn't any older than Isiah, but Wally was taller and he had an impressive weight to him for a thirteen-year-old.

"Isiah will fight him," Finn answered.

"He's too big," Clara answered, her mind on the fight with the copper, on the fact that those boys weren't quite big enough to be initiating fights with anyone. "And it doesn't matter, anyway."

"It does matter," Finn argued. "We're in charge of Birmingham, not those Cheapie boys. And the only way to maintain control is to show them who is in charge. I'll not have them walking around saying otherwise."

Finn was sounding like the angry version of Tommy, the determined, detached variety that Clara barely knew and rarely saw. The money Finn had lost, whether the race was fixed or not, had accounted to next to nothing by Clara's calculation. It was now simply a matter of family pride, a matter of upholding the reputation of the Peaky Blinders and the Shelby family. Finn had taken that on his shoulders whether it belonged there or not.

Wally had been teasing Clara throughout the morning lessons, but Clara realized that he had likely been doing the same to Finn in the preceding days. And she knew how it could wear on a person, especially without someone there by your side working as a buffer.

Finn unfolded a paper on which was something that just scarcely resembled a map and a plan for the boys to follow. "We've made a plan. Just think of how happy Tom will be that we teach those boys a lesson…maybe it'll even get _you_ out of trouble."

"I'm not in any trouble," Clara answered quickly.

Finn raised an eyebrow. "Well, Tommy seemed awfully mad at you and Ada, said the most dangerous threat to this family would be if the two of you Shelby girls aligned against your brothers."

Finn's response set something off in Clara and she ripped the paper from his hands, smoothing it out against the brick wall. Clara didn't like the allegation that because she agreed with Ada, she didn't care for the interests of the family. Seeking a pencil from her things, Clara marked up the boys' plans, bringing Finn's sketch to actually resemble the schoolyard, with the addition of a charted battle plan Clara outlined as the boys talked it out.

"You'll have to do it directly after school. Before everyone comes out. And you do it right here," she said when the boys' discussion ended. Clara drew a large 'X' on the far edge of what was supposed to represent the schoolyard, the part that was out of sight of the front door, where the teachers always waited while sending the kids off home for the day. "If you do it any further, someone will see you."

Clara was writing the instructions out, giving each of the boys a job, matching them up with what she knew to be their strengths. She had observed the peaky boys play fighting for most of their shared childhoods. Whether or not they accepted her as part of the crew, Clara knew them and their respective abilities well enough.

It was something of a mystery, why Clara Shelby possessed the little skill of strategic planning, but she had always been good with it. It may have been all the years of observing everything around her or the writing of stories but she was good at outlining and outcomes.

"Sam has the money," Finn offered, leaning over his sister's shoulder to admire her work.

"And we'll need someone to get Wally Bartow caught up while you get the money back," Clara said.

"How'll we do that?" Finn asked.

"I could tell the teacher he's been teasing," Clara answered with a shrug.

* * *

After bursting through the front door, Clara discarded the papers on the table, climbing onto the counter in her muddy boots and reaching into the top cabinet for the biscuits she had hidden there a day earlier. She hadn't cared that Finn and Isiah were watching. They were due to celebrate the day's success together and celebration meant sharing sweets.

"How scared was Albie? I bet he nearly wet himself," Clara was saying as she dug the biscuits out. "Huh, Finny?" she asked when she was met with silence from the boys.

Before she could pull herself from the depths of the cabinet, Clara felt an arm yanking her from the cupboard and off the counter, barely landing on her feet before Aunt Pol started swatting at her.

"Ow!" she shouted as she twisted away from the woman, a blush creeping into her cheeks as she saw Isiah and Finn watching wide-eyed from across the room.

"Where have you been, Clara Shelby?"

"I had school."

"You had school? It looks like you were writing lines when you were meant to be coming straight home."

Clara didn't answer, seeing as there was no denying it, no explaining her way out of it. The papers clearly spelled out her wrongdoing.

"Well, I didn't have a choice," Clara finally offered.

And though Clara could have stopped herself from getting in trouble by not instigating a fight with Wally Bartow, that would have created problems for Finn and the boys. Instead of her coming home with a few lines and a little bruising, Finn could have ended up badly hurt or in more trouble for orchestrating a planned fight. The tattling hadn't worked, so Clara had needed to keep Wally busy somehow.

"I don't want to hear that nonsense."

Aunt Pol picked up Clara's school things, pulling her along by the arm to the front stoop, where she forced her niece down on the top step.

"You can write a few more pages about not being late while you wait for your brother to come back and sort you out."

Clara didn't relish the prospect of waiting on the stoop, writing more lines, or getting 'sorted out' as Aunt Polly put it.

* * *

It had been a few hours of waiting before Tommy finally appeared near the end of what had felt to both of them like a very long day. It had been long enough of a day that Tommy wasn't up to seeing Lizzie or meeting the boys for a drink at the pub. The only things on his mind were the bottle of booze in the top drawer of his desk and the pipe in his bedside table. Rather than getting any rest, Tommy had ended up spending the entire day settling matters, both family and business-related. He hoped he might be able to get some sleep tonight.

Clara hadn't spotted her brother until his shoe prodded into her field of view. It was now shiny and polished despite the muddy ground covering the whole of Small Health. He looked like an entirely different man than the one who had dropped her at the school that morning.

Tommy had been watching his sister from the moment he turned down Watery Lane. When he first spotted her, she was busy scribbling on some papers held in her lap, her back against the door to their family home, her dirty bare feet resting on the steps. Tommy recalled that not all of the family matters had been settled.

While he had a plan in place to deal with Ada, he still hadn't been sure what to do about the youngest. Tommy barely glanced at his sister as he passed over the threshold but she was up on her feet and following before he could close the front door behind him.

Clara had decided on the best course of action less than an hour after Aunt Pol had left her waiting on the stoop. And it certainly didn't start with telling Tommy of her transgressions or reminding him that she had not been home when she was supposed to be.

"Tommy, can we _please_ go see Sherlock before supper?" she asked, putting herself in her brother's path, stopping him from making his way towards the shop.

Charlie Strong's yard was typically a place of solace for Tommy, a place where for a few moments, Clara often saw a bit of the brother she remembered from before the war, the one who laughed and smiled more. It was something about being with the horses, something about the nostalgic bouquet of straw, feed, and manure that brought about a sense of clarity and calm which Clara figured would be advantageous to her getting out of this situation unscathed.

"Sherlock?" Tommy raised an eyebrow as he went about his business, hanging his jacket and cap as his sister continued to prattle on.

"Yeah, I named the horse…You said—"

"That horse is gone," Tommy interrupted.

"What do you mean he's gone?"

Tommy didn't miss that Clara's arms had found their way to cross over her chest and though the lack of shoes padded the sound made by the small stomp of her foot, he had noted that too. He really needed a damn drink.

"Take a seat, Clara. I'll find you when I'm ready."

Tommy shifted his stony gaze to her. He had expected her to move, but Clara lingered in front of him, her feet firmly planted. Tommy tilted his head and looked down at her. He had hoped after time away to think it all through she would finally be repentant. She had disobeyed him by not coming home after school, another offense to add to her expanding list of rebellion. That, at the very slightest in his opinion, meant he was owed a bit of deference but Clara didn't seem keen on offering it.

"But—" she began.

"The damn horse is dead. And you lied to me and disobeyed me so I wouldn't be taking you to see a horse even if I didn't already shoot it straight between the eyes."

It took Clara a moment to recover from what he had said, but not wanting to think about her brother killing a horse, she focused on defending herself. "I didn't—"

Tommy grasped her arm and moved her out of his path, wanting that bottle in his bottom drawer, even more than before, the longer he stayed in the eleven-year-old's presence. "You were meant to come straight home today and you didn't. And you've kept something from me for a long while now and that's the same as lying."

Clara stepped in front of him again. "No, it's not the same. I didn't lie to you. I didn't do a damn—"

Tommy grasped her by the chin, pleased with the effect it had in shutting her mouth. She was on the tips of her toes, her head tilted up just far enough that it almost hurt. Clara resisted the urge to pull at his hand with her fingers.

Feeling his point was made, Tommy loosened his grip enough that she could stand flat on her feet. That's when he noticed the mark on her face. "Where were you this afternoon?"

"At school," Clara said quickly.

"You're trying me, Clara, and you're not in any position to be doing so."

"But that's where I was!" she argued.

Tommy's eyes were above Clara's head, focusing on something behind her, and he released her from his grasp as he took a deep breath. "Go on upstairs. I'll be up soon."

Clara didn't move right away, opening her mouth to protest. He couldn't be sure, but Tommy thought she looked like she was about to open her mouth and whine, _'But Tommy,'_ so he stopped her before she had a chance to say anything.

"Clara, I'll not have you talking back to me."

"I wasn't going to."

Tommy hummed.

"Well, are you going to tell your brother why you were at school while he was here waiting around for you instead of attending to business?"

Clara hadn't even noticed her aunt come into the room, but Polly was standing behind the table, a few sheets of paper in her right hand. Clara stalked across the room without a word and ripped them from Polly's grasp before thrusting them towards Tommy.

"It was just a misunderstanding," she said.

Tommy glanced at the papers. "Who were you fighting with?"

"Wally Bartow," Clara grumbled.

Tommy rolled his eyes, already knowing exactly what that had been about. There wasn't much that happened in Birmingham that he didn't know about. Even the news of inconsequential schoolyard trysts between the lads who wouldn't become gang members for a few more years made its way to his ears. He just hadn't known that his sister had been a part of it.

Tommy leaned over the table, signing the top sheet of paper before turning to Clara.

"He gave you that?" he asked, gesturing towards her cheek.

Clara nodded and Tommy caught her chin again, taking the opportunity to look over the mark. It was red and fresh, just a small mark now, but Clara flinched when he ran his thumb across it.

"I gave him one too," she mumbled.

Tommy nodded. "You keep yourself out of Blinder business. And I don't want to be signing any more papers from school. Now go on upstairs."

"That's all you've got to say to her, Thomas? Your _sister_ is out there fighting gangsters three times her size while she's supposed to be learning and you're just sending her up to her room?"

Taking deep breaths wasn't doing the trick anymore. Tommy's dry throat was aching for the whiskey, for the solace of a closed office door, and freedom from the relentlessly maddening women in his family tree. He wished that if Pol wanted to dole out some discipline, she would just go ahead and do it herself.

"What would you have me do, Pol?" he asked.

"Your mother—"

"Isn't here and you don't have any sa—"

For the second time since coming home from school, Clara found herself receiving a handful of unanticipated swats, this time from Tommy. Clara shouted in protest as she quickly twisted out of her brother's grasp.

"That's what she needs, apparently the only thing the whole lot of you Shelby kids respond to, a little physical threat."

Clara mumbled something that was grasping towards rudeness. Only Tommy heard her and he half-heartedly reached for her again. "That's enough out of you. I hear you talk like that again and you'll get more than a swat. Polly is the closest thing you've got to a mother and you'll treat her as such."

Clara backed further away from him, just out of his reach. She nodded once.

"Now apologize and you mind how you speak to your aunt."

Clara didn't hesitate to give the apology and both Polly and Tommy waited a moment after in silence. They were both watching the blush slowly subside from Clara's cheeks, the girl's focus on her small bare feet.

"I think your sister should come with us tomorrow, Thomas," Pol said.

Tommy hesitated for only a moment before nodding his assent. Maybe if Ada had seen how they took care of babies out of wedlock when she was Clara's age, they wouldn't be in this predicament now. And it would get both sisters and his aunt out of his hair for a few days, help him focus on the business side of things. The time away would smooth over whatever was going on between Clara and Polly. Maybe Polly could even reign in both girls over the span of a few days outside of Birmingham.

"Go pack yourself a bag. You can stay up there and get yourself to bed early."

"But—"

"It's not a discussion. I want you up to bed."

Clara was fearful enough of her brother's calm gaze that she did as she was told, but not so fearful that she didn't stomp her way up the entire flight of stairs. It took less than five minutes to pack her bag and then she laid down in her bed, staring at the ceiling while the light outside turned the sky a shade of gold.

She was feeling especially hungry for dinner and not a bit tired but she supposed her brother was punishing her not only for fighting at school, but for being late, and for aligning herself with Ada rather than willingly following his orders. And for being rude to Aunt Polly.

There were far worse punishments and Clara knew she should be thankful for the small reprimand she got. Still, Clara wasn't convinced that she was deserving of being punished for supporting Ada in her time of need, not when all she was trying to do was take care of her family. When it came down to it, the same line of reasoning had gotten her into starting a fight with Wally Bartow. She had just been trying to help Finn and the boys.

All things considered, Clara supposed she had gotten off easy. As she continued to lie on the bed, Clara held a bit of what she didn't quite know to be resentment toward Tommy for the way he had talked to her at the pictures. She wasn't able to put words to the feeling, but there was some anger towards him and towards Aunt Polly, coupled with an instinct to protect Ada and that little bit of life growing inside her.

And Clara couldn't stop thinking about how Tommy kept calling her a liar. So what if she had known about Freddie and kept it from Tommy? He did not need to know everything about everyone all the time. And in all the months Clara had known about Ada and Freddie, Tommy hadn't asked, so she couldn't have even lied.

Clara could hear the sounds of dinner below, the sounds of her brothers cursing and laughing, Aunt Polly chastising them. She knew Ada was right across the hall, probably just as lonely as she was, but Clara didn't dare go over there.

For one thing, she thought Tommy might skin her alive if she left her room, and on some level, Clara knew she didn't have the emotional space to comfort her sister right now. She had a certain grief of her own. It was a sense of loss that brought frustrated tears to her eyes as she laid in the darkness of her bedroom. She felt different than she had a few weeks before. Those with a certain level of self-awareness who had already passed the age of eleven may have noted the feeling as emotional growing pain, but Clara hadn't had that depth of experience yet so she just felt upset and overwhelmed.

But her reaction to it was brief and after she was through with the crying, Clara picked up her book and started reading, noticing a distinct pain in her right hand as she held the book open. She switched the book to her left to give her aching writing hand a rest.

It was late and well past Clara's usual bedtime when she heard a set of slow footsteps come up the stairs and pause outside her bedroom door. When Tommy pushed the door open, he found his sister exactly as she had been for the past several hours, reading by the light of the lamp on her bedside table. She did not scramble to put out the light or to lie down in her bed. Clara hadn't even visibly noted his presence, her eyes continuing to scan over the words of her book.

Tommy stepped into the room and spotted an empty teacup and plate with nothing more than a few leftover crumbs on the wooden chair by her bed. He picked up both dishes, now having a better understanding of Finn's offer to clean up after supper. He supposed Ada had a set of dishes in her room as well.

Clara didn't make eye contact with Tommy when he told her to get to sleep, though she promptly marked her place in the book and put out the light, turning over to face the wall before he even closed the door.


	10. My Best Girl

**My Best Girl**

 _1912_

Since arriving home from Uncle Charlie's yard, Tommy noticed that both twins were keeping close. He was plenty used to Clara acting as a shadow, operating as though she had the same stake of ownership over his room and possessions as he did but Finn didn't typically stay so close. When Tommy came through the bedroom door carrying pots of hot water for a bath he was surprised to find both kids sitting under the covers of his bed, Clara reading to Finn.

Clara had been reading mostly on her own for a few weeks now, though he couldn't be sure if she was actually reading the story in her hand or if she had simply memorized it. Lord knew Tommy had read the _Tale of Peter Rabbit_ to her enough that it was seared in both of their minds.

He knew that she was a bit young to be reading as well as she appeared to be, barely four and not even in school yet, but Tommy diligently read with the twins every night. Though Finn often fell asleep mere minutes into the stories, Tommy and Clara would continue well in the evening, not stopping until one of their mouths let loose a worn-out yawn.

Since Clara had taken over most of the reading, Tommy was finding himself prematurely slipping into the same slumber as Finn, only being awoken by Clara when she was ready to turn out the light and go to sleep herself.

"What are you little rabbits doing here in Mr. McGregor's garden?" Tommy asked as he stepped into the bedroom. He dumped both buckets into the tub before looking at the twins full on.

Clara giggled, closing the book. "We're not rabbits, Tommy!"

"And you haven't even got any plants in here. Can't be a garden," Finn offered.

"Is that so? Well, who are you, then? You look like you could be my brother Finn, but you, little girl, I don't recognize. Miss Goldilocks, maybe?"

Tommy forced himself not to laugh at Clara's uncontrollable giggles

"No, silly Thomas! I'm Clara!"

"I don't know. My Clara doesn't have bouncy curls or wear ribbons in her hair."

Tommy supposed Ada had been experimenting with their sister, playing with her hair, and dressing her up like a doll. The night before, Ada had had Clara's hair tied up with a handful of rags which had by some magic that Tommy didn't want to understand had resulted in the girl's head of blonde curls.

"And if you're Goldilocks, I must be one of the three bears!" Tommy let out a growl for good measure, sending both kids into a bout of giggles. "It's dangerous for a couple of kids to be entering a bear's den, eh?"

Tommy didn't give the twins time to answer before reaching out to tickle them with a hand apiece, Finn and Clara dissolving into fits of laughter that lightened the room as they thrashed to get away from him. When Tommy sensed that the tickling was getting to a point that neither of the kids was still enjoying it, he pulled back, his breath heaving with the same vigor as Clara and Finn on account of the laughter.

"Alright," he said. "Let's finish your story so I can get cleaned up."

Clara quickly held out the book but Tommy refused it as he pulled a chair over to sit by the twins.

"I'd like to hear you read it. It's good to practice. We'll have Finn reading in no time too."

Finn scrunched up his face. "I don't like readin', Tommy."

"Well, you won't always have your sister here to read for you."

"Yes, he will. I'm going to live with you and Finny forever."

"Nu-uh," Finn answered. "I'm gonna get a place of my own when I'm big, just like Arthur."

"What about me?" she asked, shooting a glance towards Finn with the same level of indignation as if she were accusing him of something as vile as murder.

"Don't worry, Clara. You'll always have a home with me," Tommy said. "Now, let's hear that story."

Tommy watched her take a deep breath, not missing the quick smile that passed her lips before she started up again halfway through the tale about Peter Rabbit's journey through Mr. McGregor's garden. Clara made sure to show the pictures to both brothers, tilting the pages either way before continuing the story.

Tommy hadn't meant to shut his eyes, but there was something about finally sitting down and listening to the calm, even tone of Clara's voice that made him feel the entire weight of the labor done in the yard that day. He had helped Curly clean the stables, shoveling shit from one end to the other for hours after his morning out riding the new horse.

" _But Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail had bread and milk and blackberries for supper,"_ Clara said, taking the smallest of breaths before continuing, _"And…One morning a little rabbit sat on a bank. He pricked his ears and listened to the trit-trot, trit-trot of a pony._ "

"Clara Shelby," Tommy moaned, slowly forcing his eyes open. He almost hadn't caught Clara's nearly seamless transition to a new book, to the tale of Peter Rabbit's cousin, Benjamin Bunny. The tone of her voice had barely changed, but Tommy recognized the _'trit-trot_ ' as being out of place.

"But just one more, Tommy. Please?" she asked.

"Let her read another, Tommy. Benjamin is my favorite," Finn begged.

"You haven't even got the book."

"But I don't need it."

Tommy frowned. His sister was doing more memorizing than reading. Tommy was now calculating in his head when he would be able to get some new books for the kids, something a bit more difficult for Clara to memorize and something that could interest Finn in reading a bit more. It wouldn't be right away, but he figured he could have enough money before the month was out.

Tommy stretched his arms above his head willing the stiffness settling in to leave them. Shutting his eyes for those few moments of peace had done him far more harm than good. Standing himself up before he felt too comfortable to do anything else, Tommy kicked the kids out of his room long enough to bathe and get dressed.

Clara and Finn elected not to go very far. After retrieving the rest of her Beatrix Potter books from the room shared by the twins, Clara recited the rest of Benjamin Bunny as the twins sat together on the hardwood just outside the threshold to Tommy's room.

Tommy bathed and dressed quickly. His feet were bare and he wore only an undershirt with his pants while he listened to the kids through the small space under the door. He ran a hand over his cheek. He still needed to shave. He didn't have the time to sit and listen to another story, but the sound of them waiting just outside only made him feel guilty so he opened the door.

"Alright, you little rabbits," Tommy said, gesturing for them to come back inside.

Tommy immediately moved toward his dresser, next to which a mirror was hung on the wall where he could shave. Finn followed, climbing up to have a better look. Though he was standing on a wooden chair, Finn was still over a foot shorter than his older brother.

Clara had returned to Tommy's bed, her entire collection of Beatrix Potter books settled beside her. Tommy saw that she was still busying herself with Benjamin Bunny. He dried his hands of the shaving soap and took a moment to thumb through the pile before handing her a different book. "I'd like to hear this one."

Clara refused to take it from his outstretched hand, folding her arms across her chest. "I don't like that one."

"Good. That means you haven't got it memorized then. I'd like to hear you _read_ it."

"But the rats try to hurt Tommy Kitten!"

Tommy remembered the story now. The rat husband and wife had tied up a kitten and tried to cook him into a roly-poly pudding. He had read it to Clara only once and she hadn't let him read it ever again.

"Then you read up until the rats and then you can make up a new ending. I need to hear how you're reading, Clara girl," Tommy said. He then started her out, using his finger as a guide to help her follow the words, " _Once upon a time there was an old cat, called Mrs. Tabitha Twitchit…_ "

" _who was an an an…_ "

"anxious," Tommy offered.

" _anxious_ ," she repeated. "That's a hard word."

"It is," Tommy agreed with a nod.

 _"an anxious paaa- paar…_ "

"parent," Tommy offered.

" _Once upon a time, there was an old cat…_ "

As Clara started over, Tommy moved back to the mirror and commenced shaving with Finn for an audience. Since Arthur had moved out to an apartment down the street, Tommy had garnered more of the young boy's attention. He filled a space Tommy hadn't ever been consciously aware of being filled by Arthur. But now that Tommy took a moment to think about it, Finn had always shadowed Arthur in the same manner that Clara had shadowed him.

Finn was quietly asking questions over the soft murmur of Clara's reading. The boy wanted to know how the shaving was done, how Tommy used the sharp blade to remove the hairs, leaving the skin of his face smooth and unscathed. He was fascinated by the glint of the blade. He wanted one from himself.

"You have no need for a blade, Finn. You're too young and it's too dangerous, but I'll show you when you're old enough. Now, let's listen to the story," Tommy offered.

"When's that?"

"When you've grown some hair on your face," Tommy said, lightly tapping Finn's bare cheek.

Clara had stopped reading, listening to the boys' conversation.

"Will you teach me too?" Clara asked as she jumped up from the bed, climbing her way onto the chair next to Finn and resting her elbows on top of Tommy's dresser.

"I don't think you'll need to know how to shave your face," Tommy said, tickling at her neck.

Clara pushed his hand away, wobbling a bit before Tommy caught her hand and steadied her.

"Maybe I'll be a barber when I'm grown."

"You'll not be a barber, silly. Only boys can be barbers," Finn said.

"Girls can be anything boys can be, right Tommy?"

Clara's brilliant, eager eyes, holding not even a bit of hesitance or doubt, bore into Tommy's. He was glad for the reprieve when he heard Polly calling the twins down to set the table for supper. Without providing a proper answer, he straightaway sent the twins down the stairs.

Even though there was a part of him that wanted to believe that his Clara was capable of just about anything, Thomas Shelby was in many ways a pragmatist. And girls simply _couldn't_ be anything boys could be. As smart and charming as Clara was turning out to be, Tommy knew his sister's life would be full of limitations and restrictions, some of which he would be responsible for arranging.

Clara was still setting the supper table when Tommy finally came down the steps and grabbed his coat before heading towards the back door. He was dressed in his nicest suit, his hair combed back, not a single strand out of place. Seeing Tommy dressed for a night out, Clara hastily dropped the plate on the table, skipping to meet her brother at the door.

"Where are you going?" she grabbed at the ends of his open coat, pulling until he turned to look at her.

Tommy bent down and scooped the girl up in his arms, settling her against his hip, a slight smile on his face as he decided to stay for a few extra moments. If he left right away he would be early for picking up his date, and even if he wasn't due to be early, Tommy had been out most of the day and felt he owed his sister a few more dedicated moments.

"I'm off to meet my girl, sweetheart," he said.

"But you're always off meeting girls," Clara answered, a giggle spilling from her lips. Tommy watched as a thought occurred to Clara, her facial expression changing as she considered the nuance of what he had said. "And _I'm_ your girl."

Tommy's lips pulled into a smirk. It wasn't exactly a lie that he was often off meeting girls. But for quite a while now, Tommy had been sneaking off to meet up with one particular girl, his girl. And she sure was something special for that to be the case.

"You know you're my best girl, my Clara," he said, placing a kiss on her cheek. "But I've met another very nice girl—"

Tommy rolled his eyes as his aunt interrupted them. "That's what the naughty boys do, Clara. They meet up with naughty girls and disobey the commands of God and their families."

Clara frowned, a line of thought forming between her eyes as she looked to her aunt. Polly was only teasing. Tommy knew as much, but it was the type of statement that went about halfway above Clara's level of understanding. But even at such a young age, Clara had understood the general idea of what Aunt Polly was saying.

"Tommy's not a naughty boy," she argued. "He's gonna teach me how to use a blade so I can be a girl barber. Tommy's a nice, good boy."

Tommy lifted his free arm in the air and sighed in defeat before Clara wrapped her arms around her brother's neck, kissing him on the cheek. He had technically agreed to nothing of the sort but Tommy wasn't going to stop Clara's defense to correct her.

Polly let out a laugh as she looked at the two of them. She wasn't sure who was more charmed by the other, Tommy or Clara, but it was clear to her that those two meant something special to one another.

"Isn't that right, Aunt Polly?" the small girl asked. "Isn't Tommy a good boy?"

"Your brother has got a good heart. They all do," Polly answered lightly, placing a warm hand on Thomas' cheek and making meaningful eye contact before turning to her niece. "Now let your brother go out on his date. We wouldn't want him to keep his _very_ _nice girl_ waiting."

Clara kept her grip on her brother's neck and turned her attention back to him, disregarding her aunt's attempt to pull her from Tommy's arms.

"Will you be home for bedtime?" she asked.

Tommy regarded his youngest sister and her imploring little pout. It was already getting late and the twins were usually in bed shortly after supper time. If he was being honest, he had no desire to be home by the time a four-year-old was due to be laid down for bed. He had every intention of staying out dancing for as long as his girl would allow it and maybe finding someplace to be alone after that.

"John and Ada and Aunt Pol will be home," he offered. "Between the three of them, I'm sure someone will tell you a story."

"No Arthur?" she asked, disappointment in her voice.

"What do you mean, 'no Arthur'?"

At the sound of his voice coming through the open door, Clara's eyes brightened and she squirmed happily in Tommy's grasp.

"Am I not invited to family supper anymore since I moved down the street?" Arthur asked.

"See there, you've got Arthur to tuck you in and read you a story. He can do the voices just like I do."

Arthur tried to steal the girl from Tommy's arms, the same as Polly had, but she stayed put, only leaning over to allow Arthur to give her a peck on the cheek.

"Will you check on me and Finny you get home?"

Tommy laughed, placing her down on her own feet. "I'll check on you and Finn first thing, alright?"

Clara nodded, quickly distracted by the play fight now taking place between Arthur and Finn on the floor of the sitting room.

Tommy ran a hand over the girl's blonde curls. "You'd best go help Finn," he suggested.

At Tommy's prompting, Clara ran from his side, jumping on Arthur's back and wrapping her arms around his neck. Arthur was still getting the best of Finn, but the addition of Clara gave him a run for his money.

"Yes, Thomas, good to encourage your sister to cause trouble," Polly admonished, striking him with the towel in her hand. A smirk bloomed across Tommy's face as he watched the kids beating relentlessly on Arthur.

"She's a Shelby girl, Pol. She'll need to know how to be tough."

"She's a baby. She needs to be protected from the fighting, not pushed into it," Polly answered. "And I don't think you should be teaching her to be a barber."

"It's just a phase. It'll pass."

Arthur had managed to get the little girl off of his back. He was now tickling her relentlessly, screams and giggles pouring from her lips as she pushed him away with her little bare feet against his chest.

"Leave my sister alone, you big ol' monster!" It was Finn's small voice that rang out the threat as he hit Arthur repeatedly over the head with a throw pillow.

"And it looks like she'll have more than enough protection, Pol."

In Arthur's moment of distraction, Clara had grabbed a pillow for herself. Unremittingly, Finn pummeled Arthur from above while Clara pummeled him from below.

Polly shook her head. "You still shouldn't encourage it, Thomas. They're both too young—"

Tommy shrugged, smiling as he watched the kids. "You worry too much, Pol. Our Clara's a perfectly well-behaved little lady…a little lady blinder, perhaps, but a lady nonetheless."

Polly didn't like the sound of that, didn't like the idea of either of those sweet twins joining the world that her nephews were becoming so casually immersed in. She didn't like the notion of the girl being a barber either but she supposed that truly was just a phase as Tommy had said.

"You indulge her too much and it'll be your biggest regret in raising her. Better for you and her to set the way of things now."

Tommy glanced at Clara again. She was all giggles and grins while she whispered in Finn's ear, the twins strategizing against Arthur, an increasingly menacing grin growing on his face as he approached them.

"Go!" Clara shouted, initiating whatever plan she had been whispering to Finn. By watching, Tommy couldn't tell what the plan had entailed but within seconds, Arthur was on his knees, being walloped again by both kids.

Tommy thought to himself that if the world were a different place his sister would be quite right; she could do absolutely anything a boy could do. And he had no intention of revealing to her now that it wasn't a possibility.

"I guess I'll have to deal with that when the time comes then, yeah Pol?" he finally said.

Polly rolled her eyes at her nephew, hiding a smile. "You're impossible. You and your sister," she said only to him before turning to the fight on the floor. "Clara Elizabeth Shelby!" she shouted.

The girl straightaway looked to her aunt, hearing the sharp tone and use of her full name and assuming she was to be answering for some trouble she'd caused.

"Go on upstairs and find your brother and sister for supper, sweetheart."

Smiling at Polly's softened tone, Clara hopped to her feet and ran towards the stairs. Catching him out of the corner of her eye, Clara backtracked to the kitchen. Tommy was still by the door and she briefly hugged him around the middle.

"Be a good boy, Tommy!" she said before releasing him and heading up the stairs shouting at the top of her lungs for Ada and John to come down for supper.


	11. Business

**Business**

 _1919_

Polly absently sipped from her third cup of tea as she sat at the table. She wanted nothing more than to head home and get some sleep. It was late, even by Tommy's standards but Polly had no intention of leaving the twins alone. She also had no intention of leaving them with her mercurial nephew without reading him first.

When Tommy finally trod through the door, he headed straight for the bottle of whiskey on the sideboard, pouring himself a sizable amount and setting it on the table across from his aunt. Without a word, Tommy shrugged out of his jacket and placed his cap down on the table, lighting a cigarette before finally taking a seat and looking at Polly.

Polly watched him with interest from the moment he came through the door. What started as an argument with the Shelby girls at the pictures had quickly evolved into a monster of an entirely different sort, an ever-growing wedge that aimed to divide the family. Even more than Ada's absence, the indisputable resentment between Tommy and Clara was quickly becoming unbearable to them all.

Noticing the glossy look in her nephew's eye, Polly had no plan of speaking with him on the subject tonight. She would finish her tea and head to her own home, putting herself and the tiring day to rest. Polly hoped her nephew would do the same.

Polly and Tommy were still sitting quietly at the table when Finn padded down the stairs a few minutes later. Barely half awake and rubbing at his tired eyes, Finn came straight to his aunt, setting his head on her shoulder and allowing himself to get comfortable. He slouched over as he leaned his body against her chair. Finn was certain he could have slept right there standing if she would let him.

"It's late, Finn." Tommy pressed his lips together in a straight line. "What is it you want?"

"Clara won't stop crying." Finn's eyes remained trained on Polly's face as he said it. "She's been at it all night."

His voice betrayed him, laced with a tremble that communicated nothing more than concern for his sister. Polly placed an arm around her sweet nephew and ran a gentle knuckle over his cheek. Polly fixed her gaze across the table, raising a reproving eyebrow at Tommy.

Tommy's face held no particular emotion as he prematurely stubbed out his cigarette but Polly could read the frustration sowed deep in his body. Despite Tommy's meticulous attempts to appear controlled, she spotted the slight flare of his nostrils and the flinty stare he directed towards no one in particular. Polly never would have believed the great Tommy Shelby could be brought to this state of undoing by his younger sisters.

She knew it wasn't just his sisters affecting him. It was the business with the bloody guns and the copper from Belfast and whatever mess he had started with the Lee family. Still, Tommy had just come home from an extended evening at the Garrison, so the strain of it all had no business in still binding itself to his muscles. It seemed that drowning himself in liquor and Lizzie Stark hadn't done nearly enough to soothe his frustrations or what Polly assumed to be a bit of remorse.

It had been a particularly nasty row just before dinner that sent Tommy out of the house for the evening. They had barely sat down when something Tommy said prompted a retort from Clara that came across as a bit too adjacent to the truth for Tommy's liking. Within seconds of her delivering the words, Tommy snatched Clara out of the seat beside him by the scruff of her neck. And when she fought him on going up the stairs, he swiftly flipped her over his shoulder, not particularly bothered by her incessant kicking and screaming.

It had been barely more than five minutes before Tommy marched back down the stairs, grabbing his jacket and cap as he walked out the door. He hadn't said a word to any of them. Polly, Arthur, and John left Finn and John's children at the table with their dinners, moving to share a much-needed drink in the solace of the betting shop.

They had all nearly had enough of the new dynamic between Clara and Tommy. For days, Polly had been instructing Arthur and John to stay out of it, insisting that Tommy and Clara would sort things out on their own. Staying out of it was proving to be more and more difficult. And while not a single one of them approved of the way Clara had taken to talking to her older brother, they couldn't disagree with her view on the matter.

The now regular shouts and glares made Polly nostalgic for simpler times, back when the twins were small and infinitely sweet, when Ada had nothing more than a schoolgirl crush on her brother's best friend, back when her elder nephews had been full of laughter and smiles.

"And she still won't let me in," Finn continued. "Said she doesn't even want brothers anymore."

Tommy stood up and began rolling back the right sleeve of his shirt, his jaw clenching as he did it. "Finn, go back to bed."

The scent of whiskey wafted heavily on his breath even from across the table and Polly stood to meet him.

"I've got it," Polly said. She placed a hand on top of Tommy's even though the sharpness of her tone alone would've caused him to pause. "If she wasn't receptive to Finn, what makes you think she's going to want a thing to do with you?"

Tommy lowered himself into the chair and stared up at his aunt, his gaze unblinking. "I'm not particularly concerned with her wants, Pol."

"Well, maybe you should consider that Clara's wants aren't much different from your own."

"I'm not concerned with wants of any sort, but certainly not hers. Her behavior has been noticed and it is _bad for business_." Tommy emphasized the words by tapping his finger down hard on the table. "I've got enough—"

Polly scoffed, shuffling Finn closer to the stairs, a guiding hand sending him on his way. The whole thing was bad for business because both Arthur and John weren't pleased with Tommy and when the brothers weren't pleased with him they mouthed off about him to the workers. It was an unhappy chain that began and ended with the rocky relationship between Tommy and Clara.

"Yes, I know you've got plenty, the weight of the whole bloody world resting on one man's shoulders, and that little girl upstairs is inciting a grand rebellion among the ranks."

"You wouldn't—"

Polly painted a fake smile across her face. "I understand plenty, Thomas. In case you've forgotten, I ran this whole operation and raised those children while you boys were away fighting that war. The shop and whatever nonsense you've gotten into with the guns, with the Lee family…that's business, that's where you can fight and scuffle with whoever gets in your way. _This family_ isn't a business, Thomas. Your siblings are not soldiers. You can't just push and command until they fall in line. That little girl up there is your sister and—"

Tommy leaned back in his chair, shifting so he now faced away from the stairs and Polly, puffing from a newly lit cigarette. "It's about time that little girl learned the way of things."

A dose of rage passed through Polly but she held her composure, dismissing his statement as whiskey doing most of the talking.

Polly knew that there was some truth to what Tommy was saying. Things couldn't continue as they were and Clara was old enough to know better, but they both were at fault for how things were turning out, both responsible for being unsure of how to handle a basic disagreement. She had spent half a decade encouraging Tommy to set boundaries with the girl knowing the day would come. It wasn't her fault he hadn't listened.

And anyway, the two would find they were on the same side if they truly attempted to see it. Polly knew the thing Clara wanted most of all was for her sister to come home. And she wanted the fighting with her brother to come to an end. Tommy wanted those things too. They just disagreed about the best way to get there.

For now, Polly stifled her evolving opinion on the matter, her displeasure with Tommy growing as the volume and frequency of Clara and Tommy's arguments grew. She wasn't sure what it would take for the two Shelbys to be on the same side again, but she hoped that she hadn't been right when she said that the threat of physical reprimand was the only way to scare a Shelby child into submission.

"Well, you can start on that in the morning when you're not pissed drunk," Polly offered, leaving Tommy at the table

Polly found Finn sitting on a step halfway up the stairs and pulled him to his feet. She guided him the rest of the way to his room with an arm around his shoulders. Polly took a few extra moments to tuck him back into bed, savoring the moment's cuddles. She knew Finn would likely refuse the comfort of her arms in the years to come.

Finn let his aunt dote on him, listening to the assurances that his sister would be fine and promises that Clara did indeed still want him for a brother. Polly tried her best to convince Finn that he occupied a very special position in Clara's life that not one other soul on earth could ever hope to fill. They were twins after all.

"She's just a little upset with your brother," Polly offered, "Nothing for you to worry yourself about."

Finn was not entirely convinced he had nothing to worry about but nodded his understanding. After receiving a kiss on the forehead, Finn rolled over to face the wall but as he could still hear his twin, he found it hard to drift off to sleep.

Polly could hear Clara's quiet weeping as she stepped into the hall. After taking a deep breath, she headed towards the sound. She heard an exaggerated sniffle as she pushed the door open. In the near darkness, Polly climbed into Clara's bed, pulling the crying girl into her arms. Pleased when Clara accepted the hold and clung tightly to her aunt's frame, Polly sighed to herself. Clara's grip remained tight for a few moments before she curled back up on the bed, resting her head in Polly's lap.

Polly combed through Clara's hair, pushing the tear-stained strands back from her face. With deft fingers, Polly began the gentle work of undoing the tangles in Clara's long waves.

Thomas' heavy footfall sounded on the stairs and Clara fell silent, a tremble coursing through her body when he slammed the door of his adjacent bedroom.

"Oh, there, there, love. You're alright. It was just a little correction and your brother's gone to bed. All is forgiven for tonight."

Polly knew Tommy hadn't come close to truly hurting her. The thin walls between the rooms made it so the family had heard the whole incident from their places at the table. It had largely been an instance of Tommy shouting so loud, hard, and harshly that his sister finally stopped shouting back. Polly knew Tommy's words likely hurt her just as much, possibly more, than whatever minor physical reprimand he had dealt her immediately after.

Clara pulled back from her aunt, scowling and narrowing her eyes, red from the rubbing and the tears. Clara hated to be misunderstood but also hated having to explain the details of her thoughts. It was why she preferred to have her brother when she felt bothered in such a way. Tommy's calculations on the inner workings of his sister's mind were remarkably precise, remarkably instinctive. Clara still found it comfortable, being so easily seen by another person.

Polly sighed and caught herself before she rolled her eyes, taking only a moment to understand she had guessed incorrectly. Eleven years with Clara and nearly twenty-nine years with Tommy had taught her that the easiest way out was to simply admit she didn't know.

"Well, if it's not that, then what is it? I can't read minds, darling."

"What good is it being a gypsy, then?" Clara mumbled.

Polly smiled, biting back at a chuckle as she pushed at her niece's shoulder. "Well, come on, then. If you can carry on like that, you can tell Aunt Polly exactly what it is that's bothering you."

Clara sat up on the bed and faced her aunt though she focused on smoothing out the skirt of her dress. Polly watched, calculating the meaning of Clara's movements as the girl sat in a heavy silence. Clara shifted her position, flinching slightly as she settled. She reacted to a shiver traveling down her spine, unexpected due to the warmth of the room and because Clara wore a chunky sweater stolen from Ada's closet. She swallowed no less than three times before taking a cavernous breath that seemed nearly too big for the girl. Then Clara clasped her hands in her lap, turning them white with the strength of her grasp. With those things done, Clara fixed Polly with a stare so somber and full of concern that Polly was happy they were under dim light and she could barely see Clara's face

"Tommy's a bad man," Clara finally said, her words barely above a whisper.

It was a statement but a small change in pitch made it sound like a question. Clara's eyes appeared newly wet and she swallowed back a painful lump in her throat. Polly knew that Clara wanted her to argue something different. The girl would've welcomed it if her aunt chastised her for even thinking the thought, asserting that Thomas Shelby was a man of good intentions and sound morals.

"Your brother does what he needs to in order to keep this family safe."

"But he said he'd kill Freddie," Clara argued, gulping down at the lump in her throat, regaining her fight as she mentally lined up the various pieces of evidence she had gathered to support her assertion. "And—"

"Your brother will not kill Freddie," Polly said, cutting her off.

Tommy had made the comment casually, in the wake of hearing that Ada and Freddie hadn't left town, and Polly silently cursed him for even speaking it in front of his sister. He made a regular production of keeping Clara out of family meetings and the shop but spoke about killing his old best mate as if he were merely asking for someone to pass the potatoes.

"But he said—"

"Yes, your brother says and does a lot of things."

Clara didn't like the casual tone Polly was employing. She had evidence to support what she had said, a fair amount of it though she wished it wasn't so.

"Bad things," Clara offered, bowing her head as she blinked back fresh tears.

"Everything he does, he does it for us, for the betterment of this family and he has a good heart, your brother."

Polly had almost said _'especially when it comes to you'_ but stopped herself short, not wanting to bring any extra attention to their relationship, not wanting to affix any additional hurt by comparing that to the way things were now.

"You know how your brother loves you, loves the lot of us, in his own way."

Polly could see a sadness in Clara's eyes, a pained confusion in her furrowed brow, and she cupped Clara's face, forcing her to make eye contact. "But just because you love someone doesn't mean you have to always see eye to eye. You can care for them and still be angry or hurt or in disagreement. You are both stubborn to no end but I would suspect your love is stronger."

"You think he still loves me and Ada?"

"There's not a girl in this world your brother adores more than you, Clara Shelby."

"What about Ada?"

"Ada, too."

Clara relaxed her head against the wall, the one that separated her bedroom from Tommy's, and Polly pressed a kiss to Clara's forehead as she stood up. "Now, I should be getting home and you should get some sleep."

Clara nodded but when Polly pulled back the blankets intending for Clara to get settled beneath them, the girl stood up. She pulled the pillow from her bed and stepped towards the door.

Polly dropped the blankets, lifting her hands to her waist. "And where do you think you're going?"

Clara hugged the pillow to her chest as she turned to face her aunt, a small flush on her cheeks. "To see Finn?" she asked.

Polly straightened her shoulders and smiled at Clara, gesturing towards the door with a small wave of her hand. Polly straightened the blankets on Clara's bed before moving to the hallway. It was empty and quiet aside from her own steps and the loaded snores coming from beyond Tommy's door. She hoped he would sleep through the night and leave the kids be.

Heading towards the stairs, Polly paused outside Finn's room, listening just long enough to hear the twin's excited whispers and a symphony of giggles. Her hand hovered over the handle for a moment before she thought better of interrupting and telling them to go to sleep. Polly removed her hand and instead placed it above her heart, which was at once swelling and aching for her youngest niece and nephew.

Growing up was all at once a beautiful and harrowing business and Polly would've loved to keep Finn and Clara tender and pure and safe for a short while longer.


	12. Nonsense

**Nonsense**

 _1919_

Clara found she liked the way her heartbeat sped up as she packed her things, sweat covering the palms of her hands as she came down the stairs. She was readily prepared to deceive anyone she encountered on the way out the door. She had a plausible story planned, her tone and delivery of said story well-rehearsed in front of the mirror.

Despite the excitement she was coming to enjoy, despite it being her fourth successful mission, Clara didn't feel at all confident she wouldn't soon be found out.

So far, Polly had been the only one to ever see the girl heading out. She had unquestionably accepted the explanation that Clara was going down the street and around the corner for a visit with Isiah Jesus. It wasn't an unexpected activity for the girl, especially since the incident with the coppers, one of those shared childhood moments that had evidently brought the kids a bit closer.

Polly recognized Clara's soft footfall and didn't bother to stop sorting through the mail when the girl stepped into the dining room.

"Heading over to see that boy again?"

"We're reading," Clara offered. "It's a whole series so there's quite a lot to get through."

She showed the Sherlock Holmes book to Polly and she rolled her eyes.

"Ah yes, the murder and detective novels you conned your brother into buying for you."

"I didn't con him."

Polly hummed. "Yes, an angel such as you would never dare to do such a thing… Isiah knows how to read. You could just let the boy borrow your books."

Clara swallowed hard. "But… but…"

"But the two of you are friends, I know. I just hope you're not being a bother to Jeremiah, being there so often."

Clara shook her head and Polly nodded. She didn't truly mean it. Clara wasn't often much of a bother to others, to her brother perhaps and occasionally to her aunt, but she liked Jeremiah so the most bothersome thing she'd ever done in his house was messing up his kitchen. The result was an elaborate baked dessert though, so he hadn't been too upset.

Jeremiah was rarely home these days anyway and if he was, the kids told him they were going up to the grassy lot near the cemetery to read there. They insisted they wanted to read in the sunlight being as sunny days were so rare in Birmingham.

"Right. Take this to your brother before you go."

Polly held out a stack of parcels and papers, the top envelope addressed to Mr. Thomas Shelby in loopy handwriting.

"In the shop?" Clara asked, her arms still tight around her book.

Polly nodded absently. "He's in his office."

She looked up when Clara didn't move from her spot.

"Christ," she said, snatching the book from Clara's hands and replacing it with the letters. "Go on."

"I don't—"

"Enough."

Polly grabbed the girl by the shoulder and marched her towards the doors of the betting shop. Clara's passionate protesting had no impact on Polly and although Clara firmly planted her feet in an attempt to keep them both outside the shop, Polly easily moved for over the threshold. "It's time for the two of you to get over this unbelievable nonsense."

"And what nonsense is that, Pol?" Tommy asked, catching Clara's arm as she stumbled over her own feet. "You're the one pushing our Clara around. I'm sure none of us want to be spending the day cleaning cuts and bruises."

Tommy righted his sister, lips curling into a small smirk as he looked to her but Clara had quickly busied herself with organizing the stack of letters in her hands.

Polly's eyebrows raised, her mouth opening for just a moment before she brought her lips to form a thin straight line. "Would you really like me to answer that question, Thomas?"

Clara interrupted the glare between her brother and aunt, looking to Polly. "Can I go now? Siah will be waiting for me."

Polly huffed and reached for the letters in Clara's hands. Clara quickly pulled them away from her aunt's reach. "No! This one is for Arthur. I want to take it to him."

"That! That right there is the nonsense I'm talking about." Polly used a hand for emphasis. "I tell you to go on and bring these to your brother and you throw a fit, but now there's one for Arthur—"

"But I did bring them. And I'm bringing this one to Arthur, just as you asked."

Clara passed the top of the stack to Tommy, retaining the one addressed to Arthur.

Tommy watched Polly and Clara stare at each other, the look passing between them not quite a glare, but not anywhere close to friendly either. Tommy glanced at his watch, turning out his aunt's chastising words as she continued speaking to Clara.

"Pol, let it go."

"Let it go?" Polly raised her voice.

"She hasn't done anything wrong and the shop opens in ten minutes. If you're going to lecture her, do it outside of the shop."

Polly considered her nephew's words, throwing her hands in the air before turning away from both of them.

"Can I have my book?"

Polly glared at Clara before thrusting the book towards the girl. "Right pains in my backside, the both of you," she said before slamming the shop doors shut.

Tommy settled on the edge of the table, sifting through the mail Clara had handed to him, watching her fidget as she stood in front of him.

"So, can I—"

"Spending an awful lot of time with Jeremiah's boy lately," Tommy mused as he continued flipping through the mail.

Clara felt certain Tommy could hear the heavy stones dropping in the pit of her stomach. She was confident he smelled the metallic trace of blood dripping onto her tongue as she bit uneasily at the inside of her cheek. She focused on smoothing the bent corners of the letter she held in her hand.

When Tommy finally looked at her, Clara gulped before forcing a smile. "We're just reading those detective books. Isiah likes them."

Tommy hummed, looking back to the letter he had just opened. Clara had been reading the detective books with him from time to time before they had gotten into the whole mess of Ada's baby. He wasn't surprised his sister had found herself a substitute.

Clara was keeping her interactions with her brother to a minimum following the now infamous dinnertime row. She found that staying out of her brother's way and keeping her mouth shut unless explicitly asked a question resulted in a lot less yelling and less attention overall. Those were both things she needed in order to keep up visiting with Ada and Freddie.

"Isiah likes them? What about you?"

Clara nodded. "I like them too."

"I suppose it keeps the two of you out of trouble."

"I want you home to help with supper. John's bringing the kids. And you let Arthur know I need him, alright?"

Clara nodded, preparing to step away. Anyone watching would have barely noticed Clara flinch when Tommy extended his hand, meaning to run it over the hair on Clara's head but Tommy felt her slight retreat. He broke the contact quickly, the two of them left staring at each other in the silence of the empty betting shop.

"Right, then. Have a good day," Tommy finally said, focusing his attention back to one of the letters in his hand.

Clara felt the rocks return to her stomach, even heavier than before. She hesitated, suddenly not so eager to get away as guilt seeped into her heart, mind, and limbs. Unable to find words to fix it, she gave her brother a curt nod and stepped away.

Arthur sat hunched over at his desk and Clara made a calculated decision to knock on the door frame though she was already through his door. Arthur groaned as he sat up, a lopsided smile coming to his face when he saw his sister.

"Well hello there, Miss Clara. Come on over here and see your big brother."

Clara smiled, exhaling a deep breath. She made quick work of closing the short distance between the door and Arthur's desk chair.

"A letter came for you," she said, handing it to him as she stood beside him, leaning into the arm of his chair as he opened the parcel.

"And you missed a good game of snap last night," Clara said. "Aunt Polly even let me and Finn stay up late…We were waiting for you."

Arthur sighed. "I had some business out last night," he said, his voice rough and low. "Can't always be here at night," he added, as an afterthought, "Much as I'd like to be," he continued, glancing from the letter to his sister.

"I know," Clara answered quietly. And she did know. She had simply gotten used to Arthur sticking around the house for a bit after dinner, playing games with her and Finn, and sending them each off to sleep before he headed down to the Garrison for the evening.

Arthur hadn't even come home for dinner, heading straight to the pub after finishing up his business responsibilities around three in the afternoon and remaining there until nearly four in the morning when he walked to the shop and settled in for a brief kip at his desk. He dropped the letter to his desk, turning to Clara.

"How's this? I'll be around tonight. We'll have a big ole' game with you and Finn and John's kids. Have the neighbors really howling over how loud it gets."

Clara nodded, a smile on her lips.

Arthur glanced over her head out into the bullpen. Tommy was still out there walking around, making himself busy.

"What were you and Tommy talking about out there?" Arthur asked.

Clara shrugged. "He said he needs to see you."

"What? And you're just telling me now?"

"I wanted to have a cuddle first."

Arthur let out a laugh before pushing his chair back. "Well, come on, girl. Get up here then."

Clara climbed onto his lap and let him envelop her with his arms, relishing for a moment the familiar smell of whiskey and cigarettes, comfortable in Arthur's strong arms.

"Arthur, I think you need a bath," Clara finally said as she pulled out of his grasp.

"What did you say?" Arthur was laughing so hard he could barely get the words out.

"You smell like a pub," Clara said, joining in the laughter.

"How do you know what a pub smells like, little girl?"

"It smells just like you do right now," she answered, attempting to hop off his lap, only to be caught between his legs and the desk.

Clara started laughing and squealing as she writhed to get away from him and his tickling fingers.

"I'll teach you and your little smart mou—"

"Arthur, my office. Clara, I want you out of the shop."

Arthur's fingers stopped, and his sister stilled, her ragged breath immediately slowing. Clara and Tommy stared at each other as Arthur looked between the two of them.

Arthur cleared his throat, standing up straight and shrugging into his jacket. "Right then. Tommy's right. Let's get you out of here, Clara girl. The shop's about to open. No place for a little girl. Tommy and I have some business that needs attending to."

Arthur led Clara out of his office, past Tommy who stood stoically by the door frame and through the bullpen to the doors separating the shop from their home. He sent her back through to the house with a smile and a gentle ruffle of her hair.

* * *

It was nearly thirty minutes later than expected when Clara finally slipped out the front door of no. 6 Watery Lane heading in the direction of Isiah's home. A group of men waited outside the doors of the shop, talking loud enough for her to hear across the street, complaining about the time. It was 9:02 and the Shelbys always unlocked and opened for betting at 9:00.

Clara looked up when the banter quickly stopped. Tommy had appeared at the door. He held it open, waiting there for the impatient men to file inside. Clara imagined he was watching her as she walked down the sidewalk. She listened for the sound of the door closing but didn't hear it and then she half expected to hear Tommy call her name because something in her retreating form revealed she had lied to him.

Clara waited until she turned the corner at the end of the lane before attempting to slow her breathing, leaning her head back against a cool brick wall and closing her eyes, savoring the way her heart propelled her blood fast and hard as in pumped in her chest.

It seemed she had gotten away with it again.


	13. My Responsibility

**My Responsibility**

 _1919_

Polly waited until after the morning rush had subsided. There had been an opportunity to speak with Tommy then, just as the morning betting was wrapping up, but his telling her to 'let it go' earlier that morning left a bitter taste in her mouth. So, Polly did just that, and she let it go a bit longer, waiting until after Tommy returned from his afternoon meeting across town. She hadn't led with the topic, allowing Tommy to settle in and pour himself a drink. She allowed him to set the cadence for their discussion, choose the order of business. She assumed they would end up there naturally, the topic of the sisters, and Polly could decide what to do then.

Polly had been considering speaking with her nephew from the moment she first knew their little Clara was lying about her whereabouts. It had occupied a distinct, yet a small portion of her mind from the very first time the girl slipped out of the house in a dress much too nice for a Saturday morning playing around the neighborhood. Clara claimed she was heading down the lane to visit with Jeremiah and Isiah Jesus, flashing one of the hardcover books that had been glued to her hands since unwrapping them on her birthday. But after essentially raising no less than four older Shelby children before the twins, Polly knew better.

 _"Isiah and I are reading this morning. I'll be home after lunch,"_ Clara had said, waving cheerfully to her aunt as she went through the door leaving little room for discussion.

A day later, when Tommy had slammed his hand down hard on the counter after Polly informed him of Ada's impromptu wedding, Clara had quietly slipped out of her chair and made her way out of Tommy's path. Polly had watched as the girl headed up the stairs without a word to her brother. She had considered stopping Clara, sitting them all down, and telling Tommy right then too just to get it all out of the way. She hadn't though.

Polly had pondered it yet again a few days later when she caught Clara washing some clothes that Polly knew belonged to Ada, a purple sweater and a few of Ada's favorite dresses. She watched as Clara made up a basket of food, the items stacked on top of those very same freshly washed clothes.

 _"I'm off for reading and a picnic with Isiah,"_ Clara had said.

But here Polly was, nearly two weeks later, and she was still questioning whether it was best to let her nephew in on the newest bit of what Polly wholeheartedly termed as women's business. Despite Tommy's drunken assertion of evenings past that it was time for Clara to learn the way of things, he hadn't followed through on the threat or made any further statements on the girl's behavior.

Since Clara had become relatively civil towards her brother and seemingly compliant in general, he had given a small allowance of freedom to them all. Focused on other things, business things, Tommy allowed his Aunt to handle his siblings on her own for the time being. She reverted to sharing the outcomes with him essentially as an afterthought, a small courtesy only provided as it was needed. Until late, Tommy had no need of knowing the specifics of what the twins were up to day to day or Ada's whereabouts, settling for just knowing when there was an issue that required his attention.

The struggle between him and the girls had brought out a certain controlling quality in Tommy Shelby. For the first time since coming home, Tommy wanted to know it all, the general business, family business, and women's business. Polly didn't quite understand how he had room to hold it all, but that was what her nephew was good at, holding everything, and thinking he did it all on his own.

 _"If it concerns those girls, Pol, I need to know,"_ Tommy had said.

 _"You need to focus on the business. If there's something you need to know, you'll know,"_ Polly had said.

She was grateful for whatever had brought on the slight reprieve in his needing to know everything. Polly generally believed that anything involving her nieces was the purest definition of women's business, the very type of thing that she preferred to take care of herself and keep from Tommy if at all possible. She preferred to spare the girls the unfiltered response of their brothers' passion, even if their intentions were often nobly founded in things like protection and love. They were also founded in misguided ideas about the roles of women and general stupidity.

And while Polly wasn't one to nurture the growing defiance that got her niece into unnecessary fights at school, she discreetly endorsed of the rebellion that had the girls sticking together and the cleverness Clara was developing by being compliant to Tommy while blatantly going behind his back. Most importantly, Polly thought it important to maintain Ada's connection to the family, and Clara's continued visitation had been the only apparent avenue in achieving it.

Beyond the girls sticking together, it was the muted sense of calm in the home that Polly openly welcomed after everything they had been through. The semblance of a Clara-Tommy ceasefire made Polly question if it was necessary to tell Tommy anything at all. She trusted Ada and Freddie to look after Clara and she knew the girl was being relatively cautious about the entire affair, taking safe routes and meeting up with Ada along the way, always making it home before dark.

Of course, in a way, Polly had always known the time for something like this would come. For eleven years, she had watched a bit in awe of the way that Tommy effortlessly influenced his youngest sister to abide by his every whim and the ease with which Clara could do the same to him. With each of them having their clear, definitive opinions and stubborn streaks, Pol couldn't understand how they had made it this far.

Clara had always had a distinct sense of right and wrong, typically straying to the side of what was correct and good. She was an inexplicable moral devotee in a house of general devilment. Polly supposed it was all the books. And while that often meant that Clara followed the rules, it also meant that at times a certain dignified and pretentious sense of fight came out of her when she believed something was in the wrong. It meant she refused what she didn't agree with and argued against those who she believed to be taking the incorrect path. But Tommy and Clara had always seemed to possess an unspoken, unwavering, mutual talent of coming to the same conclusion, their understandings on the way of things quickly converging even if they started in vastly different places.

Polly had never known her niece to continuously shout or dispute or battle with Tommy, the older brother that the girl placed on far too high a pedestal. Their fights had always been quickly resolved by one or both of them shifting to accommodate the other. But after the event at the pictures, the two had shouted and debated and fought for days on end before Tommy finally lost his patience and put a quick stop to it. That evening had been the start of a near-silence between Clara and Tommy as well as the reparation of Clara's relationship with her Aunt Polly.

Even though it was initially only due to a bout of the silent treatment between Clara and Tommy, something resembling peace had finally settled over the home. Polly knew that Tommy hadn't forgotten, and neither had Clara, but they were adjusting to this new normal and had gone about occupying themselves with things other than each other. It seemed to be working. Tommy had tried with the girl that morning, testing out the comradery that had once been inherent to their relationship. Polly doubted he would extend the same playfulness to his sister if she told him.

Still, mad as they might be with one another, Polly knew that the two of them had a hard time not caring for one another. She hadn't missed that Tommy continued to push Clara's door open each night, allowing the light of the hallway to spill into the room just long enough for him to confirm that she was resting soundly in her bed. And though Clara never came down the stairs until after Tommy left the dining room table each morning, she would sit there for hours with the shop door propped open just enough that she could easily see Tommy working in his office _if_ she decided to look up from her book.

Polly didn't want to disrupt whatever was going on between them, whatever slovenly restitutions were taking place. She knew the silence and the hurt and the anger between them wouldn't last forever. Both her niece and nephew would adjust to a new way of relating and understanding one another.

It had taken Clara eleven years to find out that Tommy wasn't always good or right. It had taken Tommy eleven years to find out that his Clara wouldn't always be prepared to accept things without question. It had been devastating for both to finally realize the other wasn't their perfect mirror but Polly felt confident they would find a way to move forward.

Ordinarily, Polly would simply handle this type of thing quietly without need of informing Tommy. He still didn't know about Finn finding John's gun or countless other trivial pieces of family business she kept from him to keep peace in the home. Polly had been running the family far longer than Tommy, long before the boys had gone to war, and long before their mother had passed. She had even helped to raise Tommy though she had been little more than a child herself at the time. Despite all of that, recently Polly's authority didn't feel so absolute when it came to Clara.

When Tommy finally arrived at the topic of Ada and Freddie while sitting at the table with Polly, she again took a moment to consider Tommy's involvement in this particular bit of family business. They had already discussed all relevant betting business and Tommy lingered, smoking a cigarette in its entirety in silence before finally bridging the topic.

It was something of a rare moment these days, Pol and Tommy sitting together comfortably at the family table. Tommy had been analogous to a blur since the night of the shouting match with his sister, in and out of the family home as if staying there for more than a few moments at a time would cause undue harm. He seemed to live in his office and the Garrison, barely resting in the home for more than a few hours at night.

"Your sister has been to see them," Polly finally offered, maintaining eye contact with her nephew, unsurprised with his visceral response.

Tommy stood up and pressed his palms flat into the table as he leaned across the table towards his aunt. "She what?"

Polly crossed her arms over her chest, staring back at him. "Clara was the only guest in attendance at that wedding and she has visited them since. Three times, I believe."

Polly's tone was light. She didn't want to pass much judgment on what Clara had been up to, just deliver the message. After all, Polly generally approved of what the girls were doing. "And before you get angry with her—"

"You care to explain to me why our Clara has been out wandering the streets going to Communist safe houses and you're just now coming to me about it?"

Tommy stared at his aunt though she seemed relatively unphased. When his demeanor alone didn't elicit a response, he redirected. "Where is she now?"

Polly leaned back in her chair, thankful that Clara wasn't home. "Thomas, sit down."

"Polly, you tell me where the fuck my sister is."

"She's visiting with Ada," Polly said.

It was nearly all that Polly knew in regards to Clara's exact location. Polly had followed Clara the third time she headed out after offering a feeble excuse for where she would be going. From that excursion, Polly had learned the neighborhood Ada and Freddie were staying in. She couldn't be sure which building, or which apartment, but Polly knew they weren't far and they were well hidden. She felt confident she could find out the other needed details soon enough.

"Where Pol?"

Polly shrugged and Tommy paced back and forth across the room unsure of who he was most displeased with. He would be happy to offer a telling-off to any one of the Shelby women. He certainly had enough rage to have a go around with each of them at least twice.

Polly had been lying to him. Clara had lied to him. The Jesus boy was lying to him. Tommy pushed a hand through his hair.

"Thomas, sit down," Polly repeated.

Tommy finally relented, slipping into a chair, his jaw was involuntarily clenching as a vein throbbed in his neck. "What the fuck are you thinking, Pol?"

Polly sat up straighter, leaning across the table. "I'm thinking that she is the only person in this family Ada has been willing to talk to and that's better than nothing."

Tommy lit a cigarette and leaned back in his chair as he considered it. He liked the idea of someone having contact with Ada but he wasn't fond of that person being Clara. He would have preferred for it to be Polly wandering around the city visiting with communists.

Tommy took a long puff of the cigarette, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs as he took a moment to reset. Had he really been so distracted with the gun business that he hadn't noticed Clara regularly slipping out of the house so often by herself?

Tommy hadn't been thinking about Clara's absences much. She had been quiet and polite. He thought she was just feeling contrite after being punished and assumed she had simply been giving him a wide berth. He figured that his sister was spending her time up in her bedroom, occupying herself with books and writing and sulking. A handful of times he had seen Clara doing those very same three things at the dining room table while he sat in his office.

"Well, where are they staying then?" he asked.

"As I told you before, they're at a safe house, Tommy."

"There's nothing safe about the two of them staying here in Birmingham or about you sending Clara into that mess. Freddie and Ada need to leave town and they need to do it soon."

"I'm taking care of it," Polly offered.

"How? By sending a girl into the streets to conduct business she shouldn't be conducting? She's still a child, Pol."

"I haven't sent your sister anywhere. It seems those girls take after their brothers and like to do exactly as they damn please with little regard for consequences."

Polly gave Tommy room to argue against her point but he didn't take the bait. "And are you telling me that Clara is any more of a child than Finn? Because you have a child out there at the races with a blade bigger than his arm and—"

"You know what, Pol, you're right. They're my sisters, my responsibility. I want Freddie Thorne out of Birmingham and I want our Clara at home where she belongs. And if you can't make both of those things happen, I will. And I don't care whether you or either of those girls approves of the way I handle it."

"You leave your sisters to me and don't you worry about it."

"Polly, you fix this, and you fix it today, or I will," Tommy said before storming out the front door towards the Garrison.


	14. Red Hands

**Red Hands**

 _1919_

Clara found her mind drifting to the untamed forests that existed just outside the Birmingham city limits. The image created in her mind was a fusion of the recollected childhood trips with her brothers to the gypsy fairs and long rides with Tommy before the war. She filled in the gaps with descriptions coming from books and her imagination. In her mind's adaptation of Freddie's story, Clara was riding her own horse along with him and her brother. Clara had decided on racing Marmalade; she was the first horse Tommy had ever asked her for help in naming and the very horse he had taught her to ride on back when she had been very small.

"We were already a town over when Tommy told me we weren't only going to take the horse away but we were going to sell it for a profit."

Sitting cross-legged on the concrete floor across from her brother-in-law, Clara leaned forward, elbows placed on her knobby knees. As a small girl, Clara remembered being entranced by her brother and his best mate telling stories. It had only reinforced the idolization she already had for the young men. The two of them had passed the narrative back and forth with such a natural flow it was as if they composed one mind weaving the tale.

Freddie loved the eager look in Clara's eyes and the lighthearted smile playing on Ada's features even though she pretended to busy herself with a book. His smile came easy as he laid across the rug, head propped up with an elbow, egged on in his storytelling by the giggles spilling from Clara's lips.

Freddie could have spent the times during Clara's visits out on the factory floors, drumming up support for the cause but he found himself always pushing it off. He had come to look forward to her company. Her regular presence, filled with relentless conversation and effortless, unashamed laughter gave the illusion that Freddie and Ada weren't as isolated as they were, that their predicament wasn't so painful and somber.

Their rented basement room seemed small and dingy, with walls that crumbled a bit in a few places and a floor that wasn't much more than an overly condensed layer of dirt and cement. But Clara found that she didn't mind visiting the pair in the dreary, confining space. Ada had found a way to make the place seem homey. She arranged the curtains and blankets just so, decorated with dry flowers, and hung the drawings Clara and Freddie made during the visits on their walls beside the selection of portraits that had been there when they moved in. And they always lit a fire whenever Clara visited, warming the room and casting a pleasant tone over the dull walls.

"Tommy wouldn—" Clara started.

"He did. Do you think that doesn't sound just like the Thomas Shelby we know? Said your father was a bastard and he didn't like the way he was treating that horse so we sold it off to someone two towns over who would treat the horse better. Saw something he thought to be wrong and made up his mind to right it. Just as stubborn as you two Shelby girls." Freddie nodded towards Clara and Ada, smirking at them.

"No worse than you," Ada answered, discarding Clara's book, which she had been haphazardly flipping through since they finished their meal.

 _"I'm not afraid of Tommy Shelby,"_ she mocked as she clumsily lowered herself to the ground beside him.

"Thought you liked that about me?" he teased, kissing Ada's hand, bringing a small smile to her lips.

"But then what happened?" Clara interrupted. "Was Aunt Polly very angry? Weren't you scared?"

Freddie pulled his eyes from Ada to look at Clara, the impulse to chuckle at her thirst for the narrative teeming.

As he looked away, Ada rested both her and Freddie's hands on her swollen belly. She had once found Freddie's fixation with pleasing her younger sister to be exasperating, back when she had been young and ravenous for his attention. Freddie's indulging Clara's childish whims had angered Ada. But with the new life growing inside of her, Ada found herself liking the way Freddie doted on her sister. She took it as concrete evidence of what she already felt deep inside. Freddie Thorne would be an outstanding father.

"Well, your Aunt Pol was further along than our Ada here, but your mum, we were scared a bit about her, yeah. So, Tommy and I, we took the train down to London and stayed around there for a bit until we ran out of money. And that woman...Your mother, she was standing on the platform at New Street Station when we came back. Somehow, she found out we'd be on that train and she dragged us by the ears back to Watery Lane. Sat us out on the front stoop in the cold. Tried to get us to tell who we sold the horse to but Tommy just kept saying the old girl was someplace better off. Your mother said if we wouldn't tell the truth, we could sleep out on that stoop. So, she left us there 'til breakfast and beat your brother with whatever was closest every time he walked into the same room as her for nearly a week. He wasn't too keen to cross her again so soon. Sweet woman, your mother, but terrifying as hell if you did her wrong."

"Yeah, and what about you? You were right there with him, cowering like a little baby," Ada said.

He glanced at Ada. "You stood there and giggled while she whacked me a good one, too, so I don't know why you're even asking," he said, before looking back at Clara. "Then she made sure my own mother knew what we did, so I got it again back at home. Tom and I shoveled shit before school with Curly for nearly three months to make up for the money we spent while Ada sat in a chair and watched and reported back. But it was all worth it. Won't ever forget my first trip to London."

"But you were only kids. What were you gonna do there all by yourself?"

"We were thinking about sneaking into a pub and getting up to all sorts of things we had no business getting up to."

"But you weren't even big enough."

"Drinking age back then was only thirteen. And Tommy and I could pass—"

Ada let out a laugh. "You boys were scrawny and short, barely passed for a couple of nine-year-olds."

"You should talk! Ada here didn't grow any tits until she was nearly seventeen."

"Freddie!"

"Well..." Freddie absently tried to stifle his laughter. "You didn't, Ada."

"Well, you would know…Staring after your best mate's little sister even when you were a full-grown man."

"Not like you weren't staring right back at me all those years, batting those little eyelashes, showing off those tiny little tit—"

"Freddie! I don't want you talking like that in front of my sister."

Clara snickered at the two of them. She quite liked the way Freddie and Ada fought, harmlessly teasing one another broad with smiles on their faces and always ending things by Freddie pulling Ada's face close for a gentle kiss. The two of them seemed not to care that someone else was in the room, conscious of little more than one another.

"But Clara likes my stories," Freddie said when he pulled away. "Isn't that right?"

"She may like them. Doesn't mean she has any need to hear them."

"Y'know, Ada once tried to run off to Lond—"

"Freddie, enough! You two play a game or something. No more talk of running off to London."

Ada began tidying the small space of the remnants of their lunch of fruit, bread, and cheese. Clara and Freddie remained sitting across from each other on the floor, occupying themselves with a game of red hands. Freddie had introduced the game to her long before going away to war, back when he had been a regular fixture at the Shelby home.

Freddie grinned as Clara squinted with one eye, easily catching her attempt at cheating. "Ah! Keep those eyes closed, Miss Clara."

Full of nervous energy, Clara waited, impatient for another onslaught from Freddie's deft hands. The newly imposed 'eyes-closed' rule had been Freddie's idea, enacted when he realized how quick Clara's reflexes had grown over the years. The new rule made the game more of a challenge and Clara was enduring a fairly steep learning curve.

"But it's much too difficult with eyes closed!" she complained. Her hands were beginning to tingle from the repeated attacks, already bright red and stinging after only a few minutes.

"You've got to feel for the—" Freddie began.

Imagining she had perceived a shift in the air between them, Clara hastily pulled her hands away, cursing herself aloud the moment she did it.

"Too soon, Clara," Freddie said, pulling her hands back into place and giving them a light slap as a penalty.

"Ow!" she shouted, shaking the sting out of her hands, an unmistakable pout on her face. "That one hurt!"

"Oh, come off it." Freddie smiled, reaching out to poke Clara in the side. "You're an unbelievable little actress."

"Don't you hurt her, Freddie, or I'll give _you_ a slap," Ada said, glancing at the two of them.

"I'm not hurting her. Your sister is being dramatic. Another family trait that must be."

Ada bent down and took Clara's hands in her own as she came closer to the pair, giving him a knowing look. "Her poor hands would say otherwise."

"It's alright, Ada. We're only playing," Clara insisted, pulling her hands back from her sister's grasp.

"Just be careful. I don't want to send her home with bruises she'll have to explain away because you took a children's game too far," Ada answered before retreating towards the bed. Ada sat back, taking a deep breath as she prepared to pull the rest of her swelling body back against the wall, resting her legs.

"She'll be alright."

"Freddie, I'm serious, I—"

"Go call on those bloody brothers of yours then to come and slay this vile dragon for he has offended thee, the princesses of the royal family of the mighty kingdom of Small Heath." Freddie made a production of it, using sweeping arm gestures to accentuate his words.

Ada sat forward and rolled her eyes. "And now who's being dramatic?"

"The game is called red hands, Ada," Freddie offered. "It's in the name and your sister's a strong girl. She can handle it," he said, playfully tapping Clara under the chin with a finger.

"Alright, Freddie. Let's go again," Clara said, interrupting them and swatting his hand away.

Freddie smirked at his wife before turning his attention back to his young adversary.

Clara had laid her hands out once more, patiently awaiting some sign of Freddie's impending attack. The hint came from Ada, a faint fluctuation in the intake of her breath. Clara pulled her hands away at the very last moment, Freddie's fingertips missing Clara's by such a small distance he wasn't convinced they hadn't actually touched.

Both girls cheered and Clara pumped a fist in the air as she did so. Freddie might've laughed had the smug grins on both girls' faces not irritated him so much.

"Your turn, Freddie," Clara said, immediately reaching out to pull his hands into position.

Ada interrupted, standing up from her spot on the bed. "Freddie can have his turn next time. We've got to get you home."

Clara groaned, cursing Tommy for wanting her home early, weighing the consequences of not being there. "No, Ada. Can't I stay just a bit longer?"

"If you're not home soon, the boys will be out turning over all of Birmingham to find you and I'd not like to have a single one of them at my doorstep"

"Well, John's bringing the kids for dinner. Why don't you and Freddie just come—"

"Clara, we can't and you know why," Ada said.

"But I can talk to Tommy," Clara said, uncertain whether that was true. She hadn't said more than a few sentences to Tommy since Ada had moved out and the morning's events hadn't exactly been a step towards reconciliation.

"You'll do no such thing. You don't tell Tommy or any of them a word about you coming here or—"

"But—"

Freddie stood up, offering a hand down to Clara. "Come now, Clara. Don't give your sister a hard time. Tommy and Ada and I will be on the same side again one day and we'll all come around for Sunday dinner, me and Ada, and the baby. Your brother just needs a little extra time to adjust, that's all. We've got to wait for him to catch up to the rest of us, yeah?"

Clara reluctantly took his outstretched hand, allowing Freddie to pull her to her feet.

"We'll see you soon then, eh?"

Clara nodded, releasing a frustrated breath as she hugged him around the middle.

"Alright then," Freddie said, kissing Clara on the head. "You be good, Miss Shelby."

Clara nodded again, following Ada's quick feet as they moved out the door and up the steps to the sidewalk. Quickly forgetting the brief disagreement about leaving, Clara and Ada occupied themselves with regular discussion as they made their way towards Small Heath. They talked of names for the baby and Clara's school assignments and made plans for the next visit.

As they neared the busy street corner where Clara and Ada typically parted ways, Ada wrapped Clara's arm tightly in her own, bringing both girls to a sudden stop.

"Wha—" Clara stopped herself when she spotted Aunt Polly ahead of them on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette as she leaned against a brick wall.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Ada whispered to herself. "What is she doing here?"

"I—"

Ada turned to Clara, lowering herself to eye level as she backed her up to a brick wall behind them. Clara's heart beat hard in her chest as Ada gripped her arms. "I told you to be careful. You said they didn't know, that no one knew."

Ada and Freddie had been explicit about the conditions of Clara's visits. They had charted the many risks each of them was taking. They had been nothing aside from clear. And Freddie had told her if she put their safety in jeopardy, if she put the baby's safety in jeopardy, or even if she put her own safety in jeopardy, then he and Ada would find a new place to stay and the visits would stop, indefinitely.

Tears formed in Clara's eyes and she worked to get her words out over the growing lump in her throat.

"They didn't…I was careful. I swear. I—" she muttered, unable to complete a single thought.

Polly stepped up to the girls then and Clara promptly shut her mouth, stepping closer to her sister.

Ada straightened herself and looked to Polly, holding a trembling Clara close to her side.

"I have nothing to say to you," Ada said.

"Well, that's fine because I just need you to listen. And I need you to go home."

Polly received a shocked and then icy glare as Clara's eyes shot to her aunt's face. She had been avoiding her gaze, shoulders dropped as she tried to keep hold of her emotions. "No, I—"

Polly cut the girl off before she could even get properly started. She didn't want to fight with Clara now. She knew she'd have to expend enough effort to wear down Ada.

"You've been lying to us for weeks now and luckily it's only me you've led directly to Ada and Freddie, rather than your brother or some nasty coppers. Best not to make this situation any harder on yourself. Go home. Straight there, no detours. No stopping off to see Isiah. And go straight up to your room. Start thinking about how you want to explain your actions."

Polly didn't like having to do it, especially since she liked the girls being together in this, but she knew Tommy had been right. Letting it all continue wasn't safe for any of them. Still, she could see the hurt in Clara's eyes, somewhere behind the initial visage of shock and anger. Polly's words washed over Clara like heavy rain, making the girl recede further into her big sister's side. Polly watched, staring into Ada's eyes, waiting unwittingly until something in them finally shifted, the classic Shelby stubbornness softening as Ada's eyes became slightly wet.

It was ultimately Ada's silent nudging that sent Clara on her way, warm tears spilling onto her cheeks as she stepped away from her aunt and sister.


	15. Precedents

**Precedents**

 _1919_

It was pure adrenaline propelling Clara through the muddy streets of Birmingham. After the initial shock from her encounter with Aunt Polly wore off, she was left feeling both a bit pitiful and a bit spiteful. She had spent a few aimless blocks thinking over how she would explain away her actions, what words she would relay to her brother and Aunt Polly to rectify things, but in each scenario, Clara imagined she would end up being punished.

When she truly realized the amount of trouble she was likely to be in for all the lying and the secrecy and the sneaking about, Clara took heed of the precedents set by her older siblings, deciding to make sure whatever penance was coming her way was at least well worth it.

It didn't take more than a few seconds for Clara to decide on where to spend her afternoon. She stepped to the side of a kind-looking woman and tapped her on the arm. "Excuse me, ma'am, which way to the gallery?"

Clara had only been to Birmingham's Museum and Art Gallery a handful of times, two of which were at the bookends of the war. After pulling a sobbing Clara from Tommy's arms as the boys boarded the trains at New Street Station, Polly had taken Clara to the museum, knowing that the girl needed a distraction. That had been the first visit.

And at Clara's incessant begging upon his return, Tommy had allowed the young girl to act as his guide as she pulled him through the exhibits. Tired as he was, Tommy was just pleased that the little girl had wanted a thing to do with him. He had convinced himself that it had been too long, that his young sister wouldn't possibly remember him, that she couldn't possibly like the man who returned, the empty feeling man who had replaced her smiling Tommy.

Clara knew very little about art in an academic sense, but she considered herself to be a creator of sorts and as such, she enjoyed browsing the exhibits. Clara found the space to be very sparsely crowded, with just a few patrons browsing the halls. On finding an empty bench in the sculpture hall, Clara settled with her book open on her lap. She was eager for a bit of calm before heading home and paid little attention to the other patrons, focusing on the continued adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.

When it neared three o'clock, and with nearly a mile and a half of walking between the museum and home, Clara knew she should prepare herself to leave. A sense of heaviness filled her limbs at the thought and a general malaise overtook her, so she remained in her spot attempting to finish her chapter despite an unsettling flutter in her stomach.

* * *

" _...And how are things progressing with Shelbys?"_

" _I've just been invited to the races."_

" _Good, good. Just be careful. You must keep your wits about you among these savages."_

* * *

Clara couldn't see the pair who belonged to the voices, their identities concealed by the curved wall of an alcove between them. She averted her gaze anyhow, lifting the book in her hands and staring deliberately at words she had already read. Despite her family's familiarity among Birmingham's citizens, it wasn't often that Clara heard her family name while out, specifically not from foreign-accented lips and never so far out of Small Heath.

Clara strained to hear more but the voices had gone quiet, replaced by the growing sound of footsteps. She felt eyes on her as someone stepped out from the alcove, walking across the gallery in front of her while the sound of heels trailed off in the opposite direction.

Clara waited, staring at those same words for a few more moments before marking her place though she wasn't quite near the end of a chapter. She was suddenly feeling eager to return to Small Heath.

The sound of Clara's ragged breaths was nearly as loud as the sound of her boot heels pounding on the pavement beneath her. She weaved through the dense crowds outside the New Street Station, quickly apologizing when she bumped those she passed, a habit that couldn't be quashed despite her nerves. Aside from the rushed apologies, Clara kept her head down as she went.

"What's a rotten little Shelby doing in Cheapside?"

Wally Bartow's hand slipped around Clara's arm just above the elbow as he pulled her back, Clara spinning on a heel as he grasped her.

"And without those dimwit Peaky boys to protect her?"

A shiver ran down Clara's spine, Wally's words a mere whisper as his mouth hovered near her ear.

Clara pushed at him, fighting against the grasp. "Get off of me, Wally. I'll—"

"You won't be going nowhere, Shelby. Gonna teach you what happens when little Peaky scum like you comes into Cheapside."

Wally pulled her in front of him, her back flush against his chest so she faced the younger boy, Wally's brother. "Go on, Albie. Hit her good."

Clara remembered a time when Albie and Finn had been good friends. It was in the first weeks of school when they were little more than small children and the notion of family-based, territorial feuds meant little.

Clara took advantage of Albie's moment of hesitation, landing her elbow in Wally's abdomen, shocking him just enough that she was also able to shove her elbow into his face when he doubled over, holding his stomach. She took only a second to observe the result of the collision, the blood pouring from his nose.

Clara took off, promising herself that she wouldn't stop running until she was safely inside the walls of her home. Mid-promise, something hard and sharp collided with her forehead as she turned to run. A moment later, she felt a boot land hard in the middle of her back.

The book in her arms went flying across the alleyway as Clara landed hard on the ground, the bare skin of her hands and knees scraping against the brick, pebbles, and the newly fallen shards of glass.

Clara let out a loud wail at the contact. A stinging burn crept through the freshly opened skin and Clara felt her lip already beginning to swell in size, another casualty of the fall. Clara stretched out a hand to push herself up, screaming anew when Wally's boot landed on the spot, crushing her fingers into the ground before he stood up fully.

"No. One. Messes. With. The. Cheapies," Wally ground out, his words punctuated by kicks as Clara struggled to pull her knees to her chest and cover her head with her arms, wishing for nothing more than a reprieve. She'd take a thousand punishments at home to stop it all.

Clara wasn't sure what sent the boys running, but she was finally able to pull her arms from her head long enough to see they both were turning at the end of the street, sprinting faster than she thought possible. Clara turned away from the boys to see a man standing in front of her.

"What are you doing so far from home, Miss Shelby?"

She recognized the voice, the accent, and the way her surname sounded like a dirty word that pained him when spoken. She opened her mouth to speak but he pulled her to her feet before she could make a sound.

"Been visiting your sister?"

Clara looked to her feet, the distinct feeling of bile rising towards her mouth. Her throat was already growing sore from trying not to cry and she winced as she swallowed the bile back down. He shook her roughly, recapturing her attention.

"Silly of me not to introduce myself. I've had the honor of meeting so many of you Shelbys, I forget we haven't met. Chief Inspector Campbell. You see, I'm eager to speak with your sister's husband, a Mr. Freddie Tho—"

Clara didn't wait for the end of his sentence, taking a large intake of breath before breaking into a painful sprint in the general direction she knew Small Heath to be. She focused not on the sounds of the man's shouts but on steadying the cadence of her erratic breaths, hoping that the burning sob threatening to rip through her chest wouldn't slow her down.

* * *

While Tommy had his eyes trained on the ledgers in front of him, his mind was stuck on the rhythmic tick and tock of his pocket watch. Even without the business with the guns, the Shelbys were doing well, and doing well meant there was more money to keep track of, more information to be shared only with kin, more for him to hold all on his own.

Tommy rubbed at his eyes. He knew the books needed tending, that Polly and John had been otherwise occupied the last few days and that Arthur was generally rubbish with the books. It was up to him to catch up. Still, as he sipped the remaining drops from another glass of whiskey, Tommy started figuring the numbers could be dealt with in the morning. They wouldn't be going anywhere.

When Jeremiah's boy appeared in the open doorway, he had already decided to head over to the Garrison early.

"Mr. Shelby, sir?"

"What can I do for you, Isiah?" he asked, watching the boy.

The Jesus boy usually avoided Tommy, seemingly hesitant and uneasy in his presence from the very moment they met. Though the boy was fidgeting with his hands, Isiah's newly deepened voice was certain now and his deliberate eyes didn't leave Tommy's.

"There's somethin' wrong with Clara," he said.

Tommy stood up swiftly, meeting him at the door. "Where is she?"

"In her room. She—"

Tommy didn't wait for the last of Isiah's words, taking a few quick strides across the shop and up the stairs with Isiah following just a few steps behind.

Finn and Isiah had been down at the far end of Watery Lane when they saw Clara run by, her blue coat and blonde hair little more than a blur as she moved past them. She ignored the boys' calls after her, running faster when she figured they were chasing behind. She had pulled her bedroom door shut, locking it from the inside when Finn had been only six steps behind her.

Finn stood just outside Clara's door, still attempting to get inside, knocking, twisting the handle, and pleading for his sister to let him in.

"What's happened, Finn?" Tommy asked.

"I don't know. She locked us out, Tommy, but there's blood."

Finn pointed towards the door handle and sure enough, there was a thin layer of red covering the dingy metal.

"And you don't know what happened either, I suppose?" Tommy rounded on Isiah. "Told me she was spending time with you today."

"Mr. Shelby, I—"

Tommy scoffed, turning back to the door. "Clara girl, open up."

His words were met with silence and a clear lack of movement on the other side of the thin wooden door. Tommy didn't wait more than a few seconds for an answer, shoving his shoulder into the wood, splintering the frame at the location of the lock.

Clara was curled into a small ball, painful sounding cries muffled against the blanket she buried her face in. Tommy lowered himself to kneel beside her bed, reaching out to gently rub her back. Clara flinched, pulling herself away from him into the topmost corner of her bed.

"Go away," she said, the words quickly followed by a hiccup.

"C'mon there, Clara. Tell me what happened. You're hurt?"

Clara let out a wail in response, unable to come up with a simple answer to her brother's question. Many things had 'happened' as Tommy put it.

Aunt Polly had tricked her, found her out.

Clara had betrayed Ada and Freddie.

She hadn't had a proper relationship with Tommy for weeks.

And now she was covered in throbbing bruises and wounds filled with dirt and blood.

Tommy sat beside her on the mattress, attempting again to soothe her so he could assess. He placed a hand on her shoulder and Clara turned towards him, arms flailing as her small fists banged against his chest in an attempt to push him away. Tommy caught her wrist, seeing the blood and mud caked on her hand and pulled her to sit up straight despite her continuous wailing.

He pulled his sister onto his lap though she continued to fight him. Clara pushed against him, using every extremity as a weapon. Tommy held on tightly, arms wrapped around her until he felt the fight begin to leave her. The fighting was replaced with tears as Clara began crying hard against his chest. This time, his sister didn't struggle when he rubbed a hand up and down her back, rocking her gently in his arms.

"I need to get you cleaned up," Tommy said though the girl was still emitting loud, woeful sobs that were painful for Tommy and the boys to listen to.

Clara shook her head against his chest, leaving blood on his white shirt from the cut on her forehead. He ignored her protest, lifting her in his arms. Regretting that he had finished the last of the liquor in the house and the shop, Tommy carried her down the steps with Isiah and Finn at his heels.

"Is your father at home?"

Isiah shook his head across once. "He's out preaching. I can go find him."

Tommy shook his head across once. He knew Jeremiah could have her cleaned up quickly but he wasn't keen to wait on Isiah to find his father. Tommy thought it best to take her to the Garrison.

"Right. I want you two to go back and lock up the shop."

Finn and Isiah both nodded once, turning and heading straight back into the house as Tommy continued down the lane.

"Get out!"

Two men were occupying a corner bench in the Garrison when Tommy came through the doors. He shouted for them to leave, not paying much attention to them as they hurried through the front doors. Tommy placed Clara on a clean tabletop, allowing him to get the first proper view of her injuries as he pulled up a chair.

"Christ, Clara," he offered, running a hand through his hair after taking in her injuries under the brighter light of the pub. She had a deep cut on her forehead above the same cheek that had already been sporting a bruise for a few weeks now. The bruise had finally begun to fade just days before. Besides that, her face and hands were scraped, muddy, and bloodstained.

"Oh, Mr. Shelby. What can I—? Is she—?"

Clara eyed the blonde woman coming out from the backroom as she set a few bottles down on the bar.

"We're both fine, Grace. I'll need a bottle of rum, light or dark, doesn't matter, and a clean rag. And lock up for a bit." Tommy didn't even glance at the woman, focused on his sister's bruised and broken skin. "Is there anything I can't see?" he asked.

Clara shook her head, fumbling with the end of her sweater.

"I need the truth, Clara."

She slowly pulled up the ends of her skirts far enough to show her bloodied, scraped up knees. The damage was mostly superficial but that didn't mean that the cleanup would be any better for her, the dirt, blood, and debris comingled as it was with her skin.

"Anything else?"

Clara wrapped her arms around her abdomen and Tommy waited patiently for her to pull up her sweater. She winced when her brother touched his rough hand to the tender skin, feeling his way along the dark red flesh.

"Just bruises," he offered, pulling his hand away and resetting her shirt.

Tommy took a bottle of booze in his hand, preparing to soak the rag Grace had handed him. "Clara, I'm going to need you to—"

"No, Tommy, I don't want it!"

Twice during the last month, Clara had watched as Tommy cleaned Arthur's wounds and she wanted nothing to do with it even if she knew it needed to be done. She had a moment of thinking that this was her punishment, the injuries, the painful cleanup, and the feelings of hurt. This was, after all, entirely her doing.

Clara hadn't even meant to go through that part of town. She knew better than to linger there but she had been rushing and distracted on taking leave from the museum. But going to the museum had been her doing. Sneaking off to see Ada had been her doing. Still, thinking she deserved it and willingly accepting that fate were two very different things.

"I know you don't but we haven't got much of a choice. Should I have Grace here tie you down?"

The question was meant as a joke but Clara didn't take it as one. She eyed the woman on the other side of the room before shaking her head. Tommy nodded, taking that as permission to proceed. He positioned himself in front of where Clara sat on the table, leaning forward in his chair.

"Alright then, you just hold still and we'll be done in—Fuck, Clara!"

He shouldn't have been surprised when the toe of Clara's boot connected hard enough with Tommy's kneecap that he bit down on his tongue. At his approach, Clara had fought him off, holding Tommy's hand back from her face with both of her own. Tommy had barely touched the rag to her face when she kicked him and Tommy hadn't been expecting the severity of his sister's response.

Clara hadn't expected it either, her damp eyes widening for a moment after. Clara immediately moved to get away from her brother, fearing reprisal.

Tommy pulled his sister off the table and into his lap, securing an arm around her which only caused Clara to let out an anticipatory scream so piercing that Tommy thought a glass or two behind the bar might shatter. Grace took hold of Tommy's wrist, stopping him from attempting another go at her with the alcohol-soaked rag. She pulled a spare chair up to the table but did not take a seat.

"Let's ease into it. Maybe we can start with a little water?" Grace went around the bar and came back with a small bucket and a fresh rag.

Tommy stared at Grace's easy smile before glancing down at Clara's pale face, considering it. Though he had been holding her still, Clara had somehow wormed her way around so she was now nearly lying across his lap, fresh tears littering her cheeks.

Grace interrupted, clearing her throat. "So, who have we got here, Mr. Shelby? Tell me you've not been kidnapping innocent little girls."

"This far from innocent little girl is my sister. Clara, say hello to Miss Burgess," he answered, allowing himself to get both him and Clara a bit more comfortable in the chair. Tommy shifted Clara on his lap so that she was sitting up, leaning back against his chest.

Clara acknowledged the woman with a small nod, her body still heaving with erratic breaths.

"A proper hello."

"Pleased to meet you," Clara said, offering a bloody palm.

"Will you look at that, proper manners on a Shelby?" Grace said, smiling. "I'll start with this one if that's alright?" she said as she wrapped the small hand in the wet rag, cleaning the blood from its surface.

"My Clara here is a dignified young lady when she wants to be."

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Clara. You can call me Grace."

Clara didn't respond, focused on the movement of Grace's hands.

Grace continued the gentle clearing of dirt and blood from the girl's face and extremities, attempting to engage her in conversation throughout.

Growing tired as Grace worked, Clara leaned her head back against Tommy's chest and made little effort to respond, her eyes feeling heavy as she strained to keep watch of Grace's progress.

Grace talked with Tommy instead, sighing deeply when she finally reached the bloody right hand they had all been ignoring. Though the gash on Clara's forehead was deeper, Grace knew the hand would be the thing to start up Clara's screaming once again.

"I'll have to pull this out and then—" Grace stopped talking when she saw Tommy shake his head.

"And then we're almost done," he offered.

Tommy wrapped a hand around each of Clara's arms. He held one to her body and the other he used to hold Clara's arm out flat on the table. Clara hadn't even noticed that Tommy had slipped his feet around her legs, restricting her movement, confining her to his lap, and allowing Grace the room to safely do what needed to be done.

It was a piece of broken glass in Clara's palm, something which had become lodged there when she put out her hands to break her fall.

After giving Clara an encouraging smile, Grace quickly pulled the shard free, putting pressure on the wound which was yet again pouring out blood while Clara screamed and writhed against Tommy's hold. It was several moments before the blood slowed and Tommy once again shifted Clara in his arms.

Somehow, without having to say it, Grace understood what Tommy wanted her to do. Tommy tightened his grip in the second before Grace pushed the alcohol-soaked rag down between both of Clara's hands, holding them together for a few moments before soaking the rag again and pressing it to the scrapes on her knees.

"One more, sweetheart," Tommy said. "Take a deep breath."

Clara closed her eyes as Grace pressed the rag to her face, standing up quickly once her job was through and giving Clara and Tommy a bit of space.

"Alright, that's it, my brave girl. That was the hard part." Tommy turned Clara towards him and pulled the sobbing girl to his chest. He placed a long kiss on her hairline.

Grace set two fresh rags on the table and when Clara began to calm, Tommy got to work ripping them into strips which he wrapped and tied around her hands.

It wasn't long before Clara was asleep against his chest, the fight in her diminished.

* * *

Clara shifted in her bed, attempting to release the stiffness in her body, a quick intake of breath falling from her lips as she put unexpected pressure on the bruised abdomen. She sucked her swollen bottom lip into her mouth, a shaky breath tumbling out as she began to remember the events of the day.

"Morning, Clara."

Clara tensed at the sound of her brother's voice, slow and calm. She pulled the blanket over her shoulders, carefully wrapping the fabric around herself like a shield.

The blanket was unremarkable, a dull brown in color, and made of a fabric that most would consider scratchy. But because Tommy had been the one to give it to her, it had remained on Clara's bed ever since.

"Let's have a chat, you and me," he prompted.

"I wanna sleep, Tommy."

"I wasn't asking."

Clara slowly turned herself over in the bed, keeping the blanket wrapped close under her bruised chin, staring at him with eyes that were already becoming wet as she kept her head on her pillow. Clara could see that it still wasn't quite morning yet, darkness still overwhelming the bit of sky visible through the part in her curtains.

Tommy was sitting in a wooden chair, pulled near the bed from a far corner. His jacket and tie were draped over the back, sleeves rolled to the elbows.

Clara watched his deep breath and the sigh that came with the exhale. Tommy stood up, coming to sit beside her on the bed.

"This needed stitches."

Tommy touched his thumb to the blood that had pooled in the wound on her forehead. He wiped the blood on his pant leg before shifting his eyes to Clara's. "How're you feeling?"

Clara pushed through the pain resonating through her body and sat up, climbing into Tommy's arms.

Tommy held her, attempting to slow the sudden bout of crying. He waited for several minutes for his sister to reach some level of calm, for her to reset herself with a big breath. When it didn't come, Tommy shifted her in his arms to better see her face.

Tommy had already let her sleep through most of the night, a luxury he had not afforded to himself. As it was now early morning again, he had a whole new day of business to attend to. There would be no rest for him today and once the day got started, there would be no time for this either.

"Now, I want you to tell me what happened."

Clara tried to curl back into his chest, a pink tint forcing its way into her cheeks but he stopped her, a hand firm yet gentle on the back of her neck. Though Clara was eager for the comfort of just being with her brother, she wanted just that, the comfort of Tommy. She didn't want the bossy tone or the penetrating eyes, the rough grip. Clara would've liked to fall back asleep in Tommy's arms, only to wake up when this all was forgotten and Ada was back home. She had no interest in fighting him or listening to his shouting. Clara was tired of it all.

"C'mon, my girl," he prompted, his voice a bit softer. Tommy was still met with silence aside from the residual sniffles. He waited for a beat, assuming she'd want to fill the quiet void herself but Clara remained silent and still aside from a little quiver in the corner of her lip.

"I already know you've been sneaking off to see Freddie and Ada."

Clara swallowed the lump in her throat. "I—"

"You're not in trouble, but I'd like to know where they are."

Clara's gaze snapped to her brother's face and she narrowed her eyes. "I won't tattle on them."

"It's not tattling, Clara. I want you to tell me the truth. It's for the best that I know."

Clara pushed herself off Tommy's lap. "No, I don't care what you do or say. I won't tell you."

Tommy fixed her with a long stare and Clara focused on the charred remnants of wood in the fireplace across the room.

"That's a good girl."

Clara sneaked a glance in his direction, narrowing her eyes again.

"You heard me right. That's a good thing. If you'd tell anyone, I imagine it would be me. And since you won't tell me, that means you've done a good job of keeping our sister safe."

"But Aunt Poll—"

"Aunt Polly doesn't know where they live unless Ada's gone ahead and shown her. All she knew was where you have been meeting."

Tommy finally felt Clara take the deep resetting breath he had been waiting for, recognizing the tension as it quickly drained from her body.

"But there will be no more visits, no more lies, no more sneaking around."

Clara opened her mouth, intent on arguing that point but Tommy started speaking again before she could even get started.

"We're done fighting, Clara. There will be no more of this between you and me. We do things my way from now on."

With that, Tommy stood up, shrugging on his jacket and picking up the book he had set on the floor beside the chair. He set the book down in Clara's lap, waiting for a reaction.

She ran her bandaged hand over the cover, it was dirty and damaged but still in one piece.

"And that includes no more adventures to Cheapside. You keep yourself close to home."


	16. Time

**Time**

 _1919_

Tommy made his way through two full cigarettes while waiting for the twins to come out of the schoolyard. He tried to arrange for just about anyone other than himself to collect them midafternoon but had been entirely unsuccessful.

John was busy at home with four sick kids.

Arthur had been at the Garrison since ten in the morning, now barely able to stand.

Polly was adopting a strict "hands-off" approach towards the twins, going beyond the call in respecting her nephew's wishes that they do things his way.

And Tommy hadn't a true clue as to Ada's whereabouts. He and Clara had settled into the agreement of it being a subject not to be discussed. He thanked, certainly not god, but whatever there was worth thanking that things had settled with Clara, even if Ada and Freddie were still roaming the city. Quarreling with Clara was something he didn't have time for so he was grateful that that business had taken a reprieve.

Tommy truthfully didn't have time in his days for playing chaperone to a couple of eleven-year-olds either, yet here he was, waiting irritably against the brick wall separating street education from the education of arithmetic and literature. Most of the children of Small Heath's poor had spilled through the entryway in a herd, lingering groups of two and three had followed the initial swarm. Several minutes had passed since seeing a single additional child.

Checking his pocket watch, Tommy stubbed the end of his cigarette out on the brick and pushed off the wall, intent on finding the twins and getting them moving. He had places to be and had already wasted half an hour of his afternoon with the walk over to the school and the additional time spent waiting.

The schoolyard was nearly empty and Tommy was starting to suspect Finn and Clara had gotten themselves into some sort of trouble with the teacher. It was not beyond possibility, especially when one considered the defiant streak Clara had been testing out. Finn had always been quick to join in on those types of things, especially on the rare occasion that his sister was keen on it.

Clara had spent nearly a week at home resting following the run-in with the Cheapside boys, a week during which Tommy had essentially confined his sister to her room. Enforcing it with a claim that she needed the rest, Tommy hoped Clara would understand it for what it truly was, a method of punishment for all that had happened. Tommy still wasn't sure it had had its intended consequence. Though they were no longer fighting, no longer ignoring one another outright, he still wasn't certain how his sister was understanding any of it.

Tommy was about two steps from the main entrance when Finn came through the large wooden doors wearing a scowl on his face. He was busy shoving a workbook in his bag, his eyes growing wide when he looked up and spotted Tommy ahead of him.

"Tommy, the teacher… she made me retake my spelling quiz," Finn sputtered, eyes immediately spotting the tensions in Tommy's shoulders.

Tommy's features softened as he cocked his head to the side and exhaled. The kid was hopeless with the reading and the writing. Thankfully he could count. "That's fine, Finn. Where's your sister, eh?"

Finn shrugged coming down the remaining steps to meet Tommy's side. "She ran off somewhere with that book she's got."

Tommy wasn't surprised. It sounded just like his sister to spend all day with books and lessons, only to follow that up with a bit more reading, especially considering Tommy had limited her access to the books during the week prior.

 _"Give it back, you fucker!"_

Tommy and Finn both turned their heads towards the voice. Despite having the quality of a low roar, both gravely and snarling, and despite the unexpected choice of word, the boys were intuitively aware that the voice was Clara's. The pair made their way down the steps, two at a time, and turned the corner of the school building to follow the familiar voice.

When he saw his sister, Tommy let out a painful breath that had gotten caught somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. It wasn't any type of true fight they were watching but something of a standoff between Clara and a boy who held nearly an additional head of height above her own. And though it wasn't a fight, Clara's small fists were balled at her sides, her stare was hard and cold as she looked up at the boy who wasn't far off from being considered a man.

On leaving for school that morning, Clara had looked her regular put-together self, at least Tommy had thought so. Seeing his sister now, he barely recognized the girl. She was wearing an old jumper of Finn's, something crumpled and a bit too large for her. Her messy hair was pulled back from her face, showing off the set of stitches on her forehead though the hair was falling out of the loose ribbon.

It was only the contrast that made Tommy realize that Clara's hair was typically styled in only a few ways, all of which resulted in neat lines whether that be a couple of plaits or her hair falling straight down her back. Tommy recognized her favored blue coat tossed on the dirt along with her school bag. Clara looked wild and scrawny and Tommy likened her to a regular Watery Lane young'un.

"Not so mighty now, without a copper or a brother or a—" Wally muttered, his voice low as he held the book just out of her grasp, laughter on the edge of his words as he teased her. Despite this, the words didn't quite register for Clara, so intent she was on retrieving her stolen book.

Clara had come to school intending to keep away from the Cheapside boys. She intended on focusing on her school work but when Wally pulled the book from her grasp for the mere purpose of getting a rise out of the girl, it did just that, flicking a switch Clara didn't know was possible to be flicked.

Tommy caught his sister as she reached out to shove the boy, a light gasp escaping her lips as the rough palm clamped down around her wrist and dragged her back from Wally Bartow. Her shock quickly turned to a smug grin as she caught a more defining sight of her brother at the same time the color drained slightly from Wally's cheeks.

Tommy snatched the book from the boy's grasp. "You go on home to Cheapside. You bother these two again, you'll get a visit from the Peaky Blinders."

His words didn't encourage response from Wally and he seemed to be lost for words regardless. Tommy watched the boy long enough to see him begin to walk away and only then did he glance down to his sister. He didn't like the haughty smirk on the little girl's face, her smug countenance.

"And you, go get your fucking things."

Releasing Clara from his grasp, Tommy sent her stumbling forward. Not particularly concerned with whether or not Clara caught her balance, he turned towards the front gates, motioning Finn forward and wanting nothing more than to drop the kids off at home so he could get on with his day.

Tommy stopped when he heard a loud growl escape Clara's lips, turning back in time to see her shove Wally Bartow. The impact was hard enough that the boy tripped backward over the set of feet that had grown too large for a body that hadn't quite caught up with the extremities yet. As he tumbled to the dirt, Wally pulled Clara down with him.

Sat on top of Wally Bartow's chest, Clara delivered two punches before his hand collided with the side of her head, flinging her off to the side in an almost graceful trajectory. Tommy watched Clara slam into the ground, forehead skimming against the dirt and rock of the schoolyard. Wally scrambled to his feet, backing away from her but Clara seemed resolved on having a fight, lunging towards him again despite the blood spilling out from the spot on her head where stitches had held her wound closed only seconds before.

Tommy didn't bother shouting her name. He quickly closed the distance between them and yanked her up from the ground, pulling her to her feet and then some. Clara shouted, fighting his grip even after he set her on the ground.

"What the hell are you doing, eh?" Tommy asked, shaking her arm until Clara's eyes met his. For a moment, Tommy saw the tears consider pooling, the red strain in her eyes bringing out the green in her hazel irises, and then his hand slipped, tightening just a hint on her small arm.

"But he—" Clara began, dropping the eye contact as she pulled to loosen his fingers.

Tommy hauled her forward without allowing another word, facing straight ahead as he ground out an order towards his younger brother. "Grab her things."

Though Tommy continued to drag Clara along, she dug her heels into the muddy ground, not caring that doing so made it feel like her arm might separate completely from her shoulder. Tommy didn't say a word as he swung his sister over his shoulder, swiftly moving them off the school property. He didn't have time for this.

* * *

Tommy set her on the floor just inside Jeremiah Jesus' front door. Clara's face was flushed, a deep shade of red painting her cheeks, and her eyebrows were acutely furrowed. Seething eyes anchored on her brother's face. Tommy had somehow known the quieting of her protests as they made their way through Small Heath with her over his shoulder hadn't meant the anger had simmered.

Clara hadn't even acknowledged Isiah's presence in the room. The boy had been the one to open the door, stammering out a surprised, "Hello, Mr. Shelby, sir," as he stepped aside to let the two of them through the door.

Tommy moved around his sister, taking a seat at the table.

"Go find Jeremiah and show him what you did to those stitches."

When his sister didn't move, Tommy found himself taking a deep heaving breath, reaching out to grab her roughly by the collar of her shirt as he pulled her closer.

Clara nearly tripped over her own feet as he closed the distance between them, bringing her to stand between his knees. She flinched, squinting her eyes closed as she lifted her hands in a mixed attempt to free and protect herself.

"Ah, so, you're not looking for more trouble then?"

After a short moment of Tommy's silence, Clara realized the question hadn't been rhetorical. Opening her eyes, she quickly shook her head.

"Do what I fucking tell you then, eh?" he answered, dropping his hand. "And don't put up a fuss about it."

As Clara trudged down the hallway to find Jeremiah, Tommy glanced at Isiah Jesus. The boy had pushed himself into the corner of the room when Tommy and Clara entered. Pretending not to be paying much attention to the Shelbys in his kitchen, he hunched over the counter as he busied himself with something Tommy couldn't see.

"You might as well follow her, Isiah. He'll need help holding her down."

The boy nodded, making only the slightest of eye contact before heading down the hall.

Tommy didn't want a single thing to do with holding his sister still or comforting her tears. If any contact at all, he pictured himself wringing her neck and knocking some sense into that stubborn little girl. In addition to the neck wringing and sense knocking, Tommy was partial to the notion of keeping her locked up at home where she wouldn't get into fights with Wally Bartow, where she wouldn't run into a single copper aside from the ones on his payroll.

Before the war, things had been easier. The twins had always been home unless accompanied out. He hadn't had to pay much mind to the idea of them getting in trouble, getting hurt. Sure, there had always been a few accidental injuries and the occasional trouble that any kid got themselves into but Clara and Finn had been surprisingly easy kids. He wouldn't have ever expected it, but eleven was giving him trouble.

He didn't remember Ada being like this at eleven. Shooting rats by day and sneaking into Polly's rouge and heels to play dress-up by night, yes, but his other sister hadn't been fighting the oldest boys in the neighboring gangs during recess. She hadn't been plotting missions to see Communists in hiding and convincing neighborhood boys to lie for her. At eleven, Ada hadn't worried him like this. And constant worrying wasn't something Thomas Shelby had time for.

Tommy slumped over Jeremiah's small kitchen table for just a moment. The single lump he was trying to swallow gave the muscles in his throat a little trouble. He was feeling weary. Weary of his siblings. Weary of the Lee boys. Weary of coppers sent to locate missing guns from the BSA factory. But there was no time for weary, in the very same way that there was no time for worry.

He knew if he didn't take the moment to compose himself, to devise some type of plan, he'd be dealing with another few weeks of the temperamental sister he thought he had just taken care of and there was no time for that either.

It was a few minutes before Tommy finally decided to follow the kids down the hall, to make sure Clara and Isiah had done what they were told. He stopped in the doorway, leaning on the frame. Tommy pulled out a cigarette and rolled it between his lips while watching his sister. He had every intention of lighting it before he remembered Jeremiah wasn't a smoker. Continuing to watch, Tommy pulled the cigarette from his lips.

Clara was making something close to an attempt to sit still while Jeremiah worked on the open wound in her forehead but by looking at her, you wouldn't know she was even trying. Just thinking about that needle going in and out of the skin on her forehead was getting the best of her and Jeremiah hadn't even cleaned the wound yet. Clara pushed and thrashed against Isiah's arms. The poor boy had the job of keeping her from moving too much while his father did his work.

It wasn't until Tommy cleared his throat and caught her eye that Clara compliantly stilled. She looked down at the muscle visible beneath the flesh of Isiah's hands. They were clasped tightly around her wrists, still tense although Clara had stopped fighting him. Now that she had quit struggling, Jeremiah was able to get a good look at the opening in her forehead, his fingers poking and prodding near the wound and the new red mark along her jaw.

"There'll be a scar, Tom," Jeremiah said. "And a mighty bruise here."

She let out a yelp as Jeremiah's hand grazed a particularly tender spot.

"She did it to herself. Just do the best you can, Jeremiah," he said, nodding at the man.

Tommy noticed his sister making her best effort to avoiding looking at his direction and he watched for several more moments in silence before shifting his eyes to Jeremiah. He pulled a cigarette back between his fingertips. "Your boy can bring her around the house when she's finished up, eh Jeremiah? I've got some business."

"Sure, Tom. He'll bring her."

"No detours, no book reading, no letting her run off to the other side of Birmingham and claiming she was with you. You bring her straight home to me, Isiah."

"You hear that, boy?" Jeremiah asked.

"Yeah, pop," Isiah answered, averting his eyes before he turned to look to Tommy. "I'll bring her straight home, Mr. Shelby."

* * *

Tommy focused on his cigarette as John, Arthur, and Finn horsed around at the other end of the table. He was waiting on Polly to start the meeting, waiting on the only Shelby he knew would need any type of convincing in the matter.

If he had been counting his cigarettes, he may have been surprised by the amount he had inhaled since leaving Clara with Jeremiah but Tommy Shelby didn't count cigarettes or drinks or inhalations from the pipe in his bedside table. Tommy counted things like risks and liabilities, weighing them against the remunerations. And though he wasn't usually the one who counted the money in the company safe, he counted their earnings in his own way, adding the symbols listed in the ledgers to see how great the business had grown since his return from France.

Leaning back in his chair, Tommy watched John and Finn play fighting, John catching Finn's small arms to prevent any further advances before turning to Arthur and continuing their conversation.

"No wonder Clara's been fighting boys in the schoolyard if this is how Finn is protecting her."

Finn's strength surged as he shoved back against John's hands. "I was kept after," he said. "And she shouldn't have run off on her own. Never stays put, our sister."

"Well, I'll tell you what," John started, shifting his grip and diminishing Finn's chances of overtaking him as he pulled Finn into a gentle headlock. "If it had been me there to collect the two of you, I don't care if he's just a kid. After what he did to our Clara, I'd be teaching him a lesson. Maybe Finn and I'll take a trip down to Cheapside before we send her back to that school. What'd ya think, Finn?"

Tommy glanced at his younger brothers. Though Tommy had not stated it explicitly, John seemed to know that their youngest was to be the subject of the family meeting. It seemed to Tommy that all of the family meetings had been about his sisters for a few weeks now.

"The Blinders don't deal with kids," was all Tommy said.

"Then I'll beat his father within an inch—"

"Ernie Bartow already paid his sons' debt. I stopped by this morning to see to it."

John and Tommy both glanced at Arthur, who looked plenty pleased with himself, and Tommy took a deep breath. He hadn't been privy to that bit of information.

With maneuvers and battles already in process with Billy Kimber, the Lee's, and the new Inspector, Tommy knew the Shelby family didn't need another war to spread their defenses and attentions even thinner. Still, he found himself merely nodding at Arthur's admission. Nearly eight hours had passed already and there hadn't been even a whisper of retaliation, not a hint of chatter around Small Heath that Arthur's likely violent retribution had ever even taken place.

"And our Finny boy will be with her at school," Arthur continued, pulling Finn closer with an arm slung around his shoulders. Arthur tousled the boy's hair. "He'll look after his sister. Round up the Watery Lane boys and have them all looking after her."

"The Cheapies won't get near her again, Tommy," Finn answered.

"Thatta boy, Finn," Arthur said, clapping his hand down on his shoulder.

Finn couldn't hide his grin, pride surging at the approval as he stood with his back straight and tall between John and Arthur. It wasn't often Finn got recognized for protecting anybody. If anything, Finn felt he was always blamed when things went awry with his twin sister, like he had some sort of unspoken responsibility to stop anything untoward. Any trouble caused for one twin was somehow trouble for both.

"And, I'll take care of Wal—" he started.

"Finn, go tend to your nieces and nephews," Polly snapped.

She started muttering as she removed her hat and coat. She said the words aloud but more to herself than anything else. "Out running the streets with no shoes or jackets, all four of them. Even the baby, traipsing through the mud and shit."

"Shit," John answered. "Can't leave those kids for 10 minutes. They were all sick and asleep in bed when I came over."

Polly eyed her older nephews each in turn before finally turning her stare to the youngest who had yet to move an inch.

"What are you waiting for? Off you go. Keep them occupied until supper," Polly said.

Finn grumbled. Supper was a few hours off. No one liked the job of wrangling John's wild children, especially if they were sick. Though he frequently played with John's oldest boy like one would a cousin, even Finn thought John's kids could be a pain. He didn't like the idea of being responsible for them.

"What about Clara? Why can't Clara do it?" he groaned.

"Because I've told you to do it," Polly answered.

It was a gentle nudge from Arthur that finally sent Finn towards the front door to corral John's kids and play babysitter. Slow and arduous was the journey from the table to the back door, almost like he knew there was something important left to be discussed and he was hoping his aunt and brothers would change their minds and let him stay.

Now that Polly had arrived, the real family meeting could begin. Tommy had let Arthur lead things about the Bartow's. He allowed his brother that victory, proceeding as though Arthur's acting out of turn hadn't phased him in the slightest. But he couldn't afford to allow any more instances of improvisation. Tommy waited until Finn was fully through the front door before pulling himself to sit a little straighter in the chair. "Pol, join us. Take a seat."

Polly looked at Tommy straight on, lips pursed as she lowered herself into a chair. "How's your sister?"

"She'll be fine. Jeremiah's fixing her up. Isiah will be bringing her home when they're through," he answered calmly.

"You trust him to do that?"

"I do."

Polly nodded once, searching Tommy's eyes and face for whatever he wasn't yet communicating. The two of them had a way of speaking without saying any actual words. And they communicated plenty through those lingering stares. Plenty that John and Arthur missed out on without Ada there to call it out.

As John and Arthur waited out the silence, they got to thinking the stare down wasn't something they'd want to get between anyway, especially considering that Polly had yet to take the seat Tommy had offered her. Instead, Arthur pushed a hand through his hair a few times and John focused on twirling the toothpick in his mouth. Both men looked up when Tommy finally cleared his throat.

"Right, well, I believe you're all well aware of why I've called this meeting. It seems as though Arthur has addressed the Bartow's so their debt has been cleared. We won't be dealing with them further on the subject."

Tommy paused, glancing around the table. Arthur nodded, a small grin on his lips as he looked around the table. John still chewed the toothpick on the left side of his mouth, seemingly more interested in cleaning the dirt from beneath his nails now that he and Finn wouldn't be teaching anyone a lesson. Polly continued to meet Tommy's eyes straight on, not blinking even once while she waited for him to continue.

"And even if Arthur hadn't paid them a visit, Clara's issues with the boy won't be a problem any longer. I've pulled her from school," he finished, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it, puffing as if the more smoke he blew into the air between them, the clearer it would be that the matter was good and settled.

"You've what?" Polly asked, her head tilted to the side as she stared at her nephew, leaning down over the table with both palms pushed into the wood grain.

"I'm pulling Clara from that damned school, Pol."

"And what do you expect to do with that mind of hers all day? Going to put her to work in the shop? Make her your maid and the family cook?"

"I've made a plan for her," Tommy answered.

Polly laughed, throwing her arms up as she finally settled into the chair. "Oh, that's splendid, Thomas. You've made a halfcocked plan, have you? Another grand scheme devised without consulting a single member of this family."

"I'm informing you all now. I've already employed a tutor for her and—"

"You've already—"

"Pol, this tutor is a very bright woman. Clara will learn more one on one with a tutor than she could ever learn at that overcrowded school," Tommy said, settling the matter. "Now, unless anyone else has other business, the shop needs reopening."

John and Arthur took their cue, moving behind the double doors and pulling them shut. Polly watched her nephews leave the room without a complaint though it took effort for her not to roll her eyes at the backs of their heads. They were sweet boys, well-intentioned and all, but entirely worthless when it came to dealing with their brother. Tommy had manipulated them both into unconscious compliance sometime around 1896 and things had been the same ever since. Polly was beginning to confirm something she had always known. It was only the girls in the family who ever questioned Thomas Shelby, only Polly and her nieces gave him any sort of a fight worth noting.

"Those kids should be together, Thomas."

"As I've said, Pol, she's not being challenged. And Finn will be leaving school soon enough," Tommy answered, leaning forward to clear the ash from the end of his cigarette into the tray. "You and I both know the boy's not cut out for academics and won't be staying beyond the leaving age. Clara needs something more than Small Heath has to offer."

Polly took a deep breath before reaching across the table to pull a cigarette from Tommy's case, wordlessly accepting the lighter Tommy held out to her across the table. She blew more smoke into the air between them as she considered it.

"She won't like it. We just got things settled with her and now you're going to pull something like this…" Polly said with a small shake of her head.

"It's already decided, Pol. I'm taking her out of school. She doesn't have to like it."

Tommy glanced towards the doorway, the almost imperceptible creak of the floorboard pulling his eyes in the direction of the sound. Over their slightly raised voices, Tommy hadn't heard the opening of the front door. He hadn't heard Isiah Jesus bid his sister a goodbye from the stoop. Clara's characteristically quiet footfall hadn't given him any early warning of her impending arrival. And if Polly had sensed Clara's presence, she certainly hadn't given Tommy a clue.

Clara looked a different girl than the one he watched in the schoolyard, a different girl than the one he left in Jeremiah's living room. He took in the look of her fresh stitches, the skin around them pink and inflamed. Tommy's eyes flickered from the red puffiness beneath her eyes to the slight wobble of her lower lip.

"Tommy, I—"

Tommy released a small breath as he beckoned her forward. Any lingering anger from when Tommy left her with Jeremiah had been quelled. With only a little hesitation, Clara stepped through the door and up to Tommy's side. She allowed him to pull her to stand between his knees, allowed him to take a look at her stitches before she climbed onto a knee and settled with her head against his chest.

"I wanna stay at my school," she mumbled, her voice barely audible with her cheek placed flush against the fabric of her brother's jacket.

"Finn and I gotta look out for each other," Clara continued though Tommy's hand had stopped running up and down her back.

Polly raised an eyebrow as she watched Tommy's reaction. She knew he hadn't been expecting the words that came from Clara's mouth. From the way he had invited her into his arms, Polly was quite certain Tommy had been expecting some pitiful tears and an apology. He should be learning to know better.

"How long were you listening outside that door?" Tommy asked.

Tommy felt Clara shrug a shoulder so he shifted her, breaking the contact she had with him as he forced her back to stand between his knees.

"Stand up and talk to me," he said.

"I don't wanna leave school. I wanna stay with Finn."

"Finn won't be in that school much longer."

"But I've been invited to read my story at the Christmas pageant and—"

"It's been settled, Clara."

Clara turned to her aunt, attempting to pull herself from Tommy's grasp. "But Aunt Poll—"

"The decision has been made," Tommy said, cutting her off before she had the chance to plead. "And begging Polly won't change a thing."

"But…but what about a family vote?" Clara sputtered.

Tommy leaned forward again, a hollow laugh falling from his mouth as he flicked the ash and turned to look at his sister. "And what would you know about family votes?"

Clara's mouth dropped open for a short moment before she thought better of showing him too much. "I just…" Clara started. "Well, I know we're supposed to have them. We're supposed to make decisions as a family."

Polly smiled, looking across the table. "She's not wrong."

Tommy took a lengthy inhale and exhale from the cigarette before making eye contact again. "We had a vote just now, surely you heard it since you've been standing out in the hall listening in."

"But that wasn't a proper vote!" Clara said, crossing her arms over her chest. "You just told everybody, that's all. You can't just decide everything for everyone, Tommy."

Polly let out a snort. "She's not wrong about that either."

Clara's lips pulled up in a half-smile as she looked to her aunt but Polly and Tommy were already in the middle of another one of those conversations she knew they liked to have with their eyes. Clara knew better than to interrupt them so she stayed quiet for a moment as she watched. Quietly as possible, she attempted to put a bit of distance between herself and her brother, surprised when he grasped her arm to stop her.

"I've had enough of you two fighting me. Freddie Thorne will be leaving Birmingham and Clara, you're leaving that school."

"But, Tommy, I don't wanna—" she started, letting out a whimper when he turned her face towards him with a rough grasp on her chin.

"You think I am concerned with whether or not you wanna?"

At one point, Tommy might have been concerned with his sister's wants, when he had the time for it but he was beginning to lose patience with it. The more defiant she grew, the less patient Tommy felt, the coldness he rarely showed towards her becoming commonplace. He was growing immune to his sister's objections, cultivating an impervious resistance to her teary eyes. Tommy looked at his sister for what felt like a long while, waiting for her to comply, waiting for some sort of understanding to show itself only to be disappointed by her outlasting him.


	17. King of the Clan

_A/N: Sorry for the excessive wait! I actually just finished going over the story and editing/ cleaning it up, adding a bit here and there as I saw fit. Nothing to change the story but just bolstering where it was warranted and editing for continuity's sake. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

 **King of the Clan**

 _1919_

Clara slumped into her hand as she sat at the table slowly chewing her eggs and potatoes, one hand on her fork, the other holding a school book open. After having one of those evenings where she wasn't quite sure if she slept more than she sat reclined on her mattress staring at the dark ceiling, she had gotten out of bed with the moonlight still shining through her bedroom window.

She had plans of heading off to school early, as soon as Finn was up and ready, as soon as she got some endorsement for her intentions in the form of Tommy seeing her ready for school and not speaking up against it.

Tommy paused on the final step, studying his sister for a moment. Clara wore a clean white blouse and sweater with a blue skirt. Her boots were laced tight and clean of Birmingham's mud. She had pulled her hair back, secured it with a ribbon and bow, though her golden tresses already fell loose over her eyes. She was focused on her book, chewing her food without realizing she was even doing it, bringing the food to her mouth as if it were merely drawn by some sort of gravity and not through conscious choice.

Tommy cleared his throat before taking the final step.

Clara's back straightened and she dropped both the fork and the book, the metal clanging on the plate as she quickly moved to pick up the book from the floor. She forced a quick smile towards Finn who had been just behind Tommy on the stairs.

"I made us breakfast. I already took my share."

Finn settled himself at the table, pulling the platter in front of him.

"I can make more if…" she mumbled, fingers tightly grasping the book as she held it to her chest.

Tommy watched her still, fascinated by the length of time she had successfully avoided meeting his eyes. They both let her suggestion drift away as they watched Finn tuck into the dish of eggs and potatoes, eating straight from the serving dish while the plate intended for him sat off to the side, clean and untouched.

Tommy shook his head once at the boy as Clara busied herself with the contents of her school bag. He settled into the seat at the head of the table, his focus returning to Clara.

"C'mere, Clara. Let me get a look at that head."

Clara finished stuffing the books back in her bag before shuffling closer to her brother, her face still turned towards Finn. She grimaced as Tommy impatiently moved her to stand in front of him, his knees trapping her against the table. He nearly rolled his eyes at the production she was making of not looking at him though he wasn't surprised by it.

Up close, Tommy could see the dark circles below her eyes, the dull pallid skin of her face. Tommy pushed the loose hair away from her forehead and Clara flinched away as he touched his thumb to the sensitive flesh above her brow.

Tommy raised an eyebrow as her eyes moved suddenly to his.

"You clean this?"

"Jeremiah did," she offered, dropping eye contact as she wrapped her arms tightly around her body, leaning back into the table.

Tommy hummed, leaning back in the chair. "That was yesterday. Let's keep that hair out of the battle scar, eh?"

She nodded once, her chin nearly knocking into her chest as she kept her eyes trained to the floor. "Can you do special ones?"

Tommy didn't answer, turning her around to face the table before pulling his fingers through her hair. Clara didn't complain as his fingers snagged on the knots she hadn't been able to brush out herself but her shoulders slumped as Tommy pulled her hair into three distinct sections at the nape of her neck.

Tommy couldn't braid in the proper sense, not in the fancy way Clara liked and had become accustomed to. She preferred Ada or Polly or even John who was a bit better than Tommy since Martha had forced him to learn on account of his own girls. But Tommy could do a basic plait and so long as he pulled it tight, that would be good enough to keep the hair clear of her cut.

"But all the girls at school get two special braids."

"Good thing you're not going to school then," Tommy said, yanking slightly on Clara's head as he began twisting her hair into place.

Tommy heard her groan, felt the shift in her body as she stomped her boot. He pulled tighter on the braid once again, her groan shifting to a whine as her head shifted. He tied her ribbon into a clumsy bow, turning her back to face him. "Take those books back upstairs."

"But I—"

"Take the books upstairs. I've told you I won't have you fighting me."

"I'm not fighting you."

"You are and if you insist on it, you can stay in your room for the day."

Clara stared back at her brother, shifting her gaze to the floor when she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. "But—"

"It's not fair she gets to stay home and I have to go back to school," Finn said, mouth still full of eggs. "Can't I stay home, too, Tommy?"

"No, Finn. You'll have to stick it out without your sister. It's not a reward for her to be staying home."

Finn shrugged. "It would be for me."

"Well, it's not, eh Clara?" Tommy said, wiping the tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Clara pushed his hand away, her lips pressed into a firm line.

"No stupid tests or reading or—"

"Shut up, Finn."

"Take the books up."

"Then tell him to—"

"I won't tell you again."

Clara huffed as she tugged on the strap of her school bag, allowing it to slam against the wood floor.

"Then come back down and I'll clean that up before I go."

"I'll do it myself."

Clara liked the feeling of her boots slapping against the hardwood as she stomped up the stairs but she quickly softened her steps when she heard the sound of wood scraping on the floor.

"Clara."

She stopped her solemn march up the stairs only two steps from the freedom of her bedroom. "What?"

"Look at me."

Clara's shoulders slowly rose and fell as she took a steadying breath. If she hadn't made a production of the stomping, she would have already been safely tucked away in her room, avoiding this interaction altogether. She heard Tommy's weight fall on the first step, the wood creaking under his load and she turned to face him. Clara put forth an effort to make her face neutral, to convey nothing aside from the fact that she was expecting him to say his piece.

"Don't be leaving the house today," he said. "I've got business in town and I don't want to be questioning your whereabouts."

Clara nodded once. She waited for Tommy to back down the steps before withdrawing to her bedroom. Behind the safety of the closed bedroom door, Clara allowed herself to lower to the floor, her arms wrapping around her knees as she drew them into her chest. She felt the sting of tears, the painful lump working itself up her throat. She was alone on the second floor of the house and feeling a special kind of lonely she knew wouldn't be quelled by one of her books.

It had been days since a book brought her any proper sense of comfort. Though she scanned the pages of her novels with a deliberate eye, willing her mind to focus, her thoughts were evidently elsewhere. Her most recent hardcovered adventure had slipped from her bag as she lowered herself to the floor, quietly mocking her. Clara tossed the book, unmoved by the thud it made as it hit the wall behind her bed, landing with its pages open and crumbled atop her blankets.

She stayed on the floor for another moment as she quieted, the anger and sadness settling within her. Clara stood up, rearranging the book and smoothing the pages before leaving it on the bed and moving towards the window overlooking the courtyard behind the house.

She considered for only a brief moment whether escaping to the back roof over the kitchen counted as leaving the house. It was not a spot where she had ever explicitly been told not to wander. Unlike the betting shop or Ada's bedroom, the topic of the roof had never been discussed. Regardless, climbing through the window and settling there always made her feel a bit mischievous.

Whenever Clara climbed through that small window, reaching down with her toes to find her footing on the aging shingles, her stomach always flipped. She had never once been caught, but she realized she had ventured out there less since the boys returned home and whether consciously or not, Clara had taken to timing her roof explorations for when she knew the boys would be out.

It was a spot Clara liked because it was easy to be physically alone, especially in the mornings when mothers weren't out hanging their laundry and most people still languished in their beds. It made it easier to think, easier to wallow. And wallowing was exactly the thing Clara felt like doing.

Clara had been alone on the roof for no more than twenty minutes when she heard John speak through the window. She hadn't heard him approach but he hadn't startled her, his voice distinctive to her ears.

"Starting fights and escaping through windows now, are we? Tommy'll have to move you up front to Ada's room."

John hoped for at least half a smile from his sister but he was met with little more than a neutral glance when she turned to look at him as he hung his head through the open window. Clara quickly resettled her gaze back down the row of houses and John started his climb onto the roof.

It was more difficult than he remembered, the window seeming smaller and higher than the last time he had climbed through. He had the briefest fleeting thought that he was getting to be old. He walked to Clara's side, nudging her with the toe of his shoe.

"Hey," he said, waiting until she looked up to him. "You wanna come to visit Arthur with me? Get that sorry fool outta bed?"

"Is he sick?"

"In a way, I suppose," John mused, shrugging as he stood beside Clara, his gaze shifting out to the houses. They were nearly at the edge of the roof. He could've jumped without much thought and not a single injury but he remembered a time when the distance from the roof to the ground felt like a major feat. He figured it still felt high to his sister. "He could use some cheering up is all. You're good with cheering."

John watched as Clara gathered her knees a little closer, settling her chin on her folded arms.

"Can't," she mumbled.

"Why's that?"

"Tommy told me not to be leaving the house."

John let out a chuckle. "So, what? You're shutting yourself in your room to prevent another walloping? That's not a way to live your life. If I had to lock myself in my house to avoid trouble, I'd never see sunlight."

"I'd didn't get a walloping."

John made an impressed nod. "Well, Tommy's always been a little soft on you. And I suppose with the stitches and the fightin', you've been through enough. You certainly can't say you didn't earn one though, eh?"

Clara felt a blush creep into her cheeks and turned further away from John again, allowing her hair to fall across her face.

It had only taken her until she settled into bed the night before to realize that she had messed up. She had let her anger with Wally Bartow and all of the rest of it get the best of her. She had been expecting some sort of physical repercussion ever since arriving home, Clara suffocating under the tension of a threat that Tommy hadn't even issued.

"I never thought it'd be you being the first Shelby pulled outta school for scrapping."

The picture in John's head made sense only because he had seen Clara mid-fight with Finn so many times, the two tearing at each other, a mess of scratching fingernails and flailing limbs. He had never been above encouraging the twins to fight it out or to pounce on any of his other siblings. Still, that had been in the context of family. The brawls were nothing more than play fighting. If Clara got the best of someone, it wasn't on account of strength, but more likely the result of her opponent being overcome with a distracting bit of laughter.

The idea of his baby sister, his short, scrawny sister, picking a fight with a kid twice her size in the schoolyard scared him. Finn's coming into being a Blinder scared him too but there was no stopping that for Finn. The girls though, they had options for a different life. They didn't need to brawl or steal. They could live a quiet, easy existence if they wanted.

Clara let out a horrible sounding wail and John lowered himself to her side, settling his arm over her quaking shoulders. She straightaway released her legs and turned into John's chest, tucking her head in the space under his chin.

John took a second to rearrange himself and accommodate her. John wasn't the one Clara came to when she was upset. He could count on a single hand the times in his life when he had been the person to comfort her, the person who's chin she tucked her head under.

John had far more often been the person she ran to for protection from a fake attack from a sibling. He had been the person she demanded a silly joke from, the person she asked to accompany her on a walk to Uncle Charlie's. He had been the person allowing her to escape to his house for the evening, where she could play the role of having someone to be in charge of, four someones to be in charge of. Those were the roles John played for Clara.

The sounds mumbled through her lips were a mix of whines with fragmented sentences. John grasped what he could, forcing himself to listen more closely to the words than the cries and staggered breathing.

"What if I never get back to school? How am I supposed to support myself? What if—?"

"Where are you getting ideas you'll have to be supporting yourself?"

"Some ladies have to. If they don't finish school and they don't have a husband and they have to do bad things just so they can eat supper and have a bed to sleep in and—"

"And you won't be one of them!" John felt Clara flinch at his tone and he wiped a hand over his face before starting again. "Christ, Clara. You've got four brothers that'll have to be good and dead before you'd ever have to do any kind of work. And anyway, you're going back to school, you hear me?"

John cupped her chin, lifting her face so her watery eyes met his. He searched for some sort of recognition of his words, a confirmation of acceptance, and he only continued when he found it. "If Tommy doesn't have it sorted by Christmas, I'll sort it for you myself, eh?"

"Christmas?" Clara wailed once again. "But Christmas is ages away."

"Christ. I don't know a single person who'd be this upset at missing a bit of school."

Clara had dissolved into tears again, seemingly fusing herself into the fabric of his waistcoat. John pulled her away, placing hands on both cheeks, tears spilling from her eyes as she sputtered and hiccupped.

"Keep carrying on like that and someone will report us to the parish authorities. Sounds like you're being offed."

John's words, intended as a joke, had a quick effect in dampening her wails. John gave her a sad smile, clearing the tears away by sweeping his thumbs under her eyes.

"You know he must already have a plan for your schooling. A tutor for now, but I'm sure he's got a new school worked out. He's always got some sort of strategy worked out before the rest of us know a thing about it, doesn't he?"

Clara nodded as much as she could with John's hands cradling her cheeks. In the time Clara spent alone on the roof before John came up, she came to the same conclusion, that Tommy had crafted some sort of plan that he hadn't yet deemed ready to share with her. It wasn't just the not knowing that bothered her though. The notion of Tommy no longer judging her as honorable enough to know his plans hurt more than she knew it could.

"And until he lets us know his plan, that means you're free to come with me to visit Arthur."

"No, I'm not. Tommy said—"

"You gonna do everything our brother says for the rest of your life?"

John stood up, straightening his clothes as he looked down at his sister, her head once again turned away from him towards the houses of Watery Lane.

"I don't know," she mumbled.

"Well, how about this? How about you come back inside and write Arthur a letter and I'll deliver it to him? I'll send him over for a visit later today, yeah?"

John reached a hand down to her, smirking when she finally slipped her fingers in his palm. He pulled her to her feet and led her to the window, watching as she climbed through. He followed after, pulling the glass pane closed.

"You know, next time, if you don't want to be found out you should pull that window closed after you climb out. Keeps people from looking."

"I've never been found out before."

"You spend much time out there? You've got three brothers with windows facing that roof."

"None of you must've been paying very much attention then."

Both of them shrugged before John reached out to muss her hair. "I've got four wild ones of my own to look after. If anything, you should be looking out for me, making sure they don't overthrow me."

Clara glanced back at her brother, smiling. "They're just kids."

"So are you, just a kid, that is. Wicked though, the whole lot of you. I know you taught my Sarah that trick with the spot under the chin," John answered, reaching over to tickle his sister in the weak spot they both shared, laughing as she swatted his hand away.

"The girl uses that to keep us all in line, a bit wild and bossy like her Aunt Clara, that one."

Clara shoved at John, the two falling into laughter as he caught her arms.

"Any wildness those kids have, they learned it from their father and their bloody uncles. Martha and Aunt Polly always said so."

John's kids were each a year or less apart, the immediate result of his early marriage to Martha Taylor. When they were first married and Sarah was born, Clara had been only four, and less than a year later came Joseph, then Katie, and then, after John had left for the war, little Robbie.

"Whoever they got it from, they're exhausting."

John settled on his sister's bed, moving a stuffed rabbit and her latest book to the side as he settled against the headboard. John allowed his shoes to dangle off the end of the bed. He watched as Clara settled at the small writing desk beside the window, pulling a piece of paper and pencil from the drawer and beginning her letter to Arthur.

"Doesn't have to be anything like those novels you sent when we were away," John said, "Just something quick to encourage the old man."

Clara largely ignored John's suggestion. She wasn't one to constrain her writing whether it was a story or a note. Though she occupied herself with the letter, Clara found her brain bringing her back to a place of frustration, bringing her back to that moment when she stood at the top of the steps listening to Tommy tell her not to leave the house. It was frustration at not being able to go with John down the street to Arthur's, frustration at not being able to go back to school, and it seeped into every part of her, filling her muscles with a restless strain she wished to shake out.

Clara knew she was inching back towards something she didn't want from Tommy, another sort of explosive confrontation. Knowing it didn't keep her from feeling the agitated verve in every part of her body, down to her fingertips.

She turned towards John, his eyes skimming the pages of the book she had deposited on the bed earlier. One of his hands rested casually behind his head. "What?"

"How do I keep out of trouble?"

John exhaled quickly through his nose, letting out a quick snort. "You're asking the wrong person. Hell, I don't know if there's a single one of us Shelbys knows how to keep outta trouble."

She scuffed the bottom of her boot a few times, frowning at the floor as she turned back to her writing. She didn't want to spend the foreseeable future at odds with Tommy, going toe to toe for weeks or months at a time until he decided he wanted her not just out of the local school but out of Birmingham altogether.

"You know, you're lucky, you and Finn. You've got it easy. Pol's nerves are shot after dealing with the rest of us, so she's gone soft. And Tommy, too. Well, he's soft on you at least. Gives the rest of us an ear full for something he'd only give you half."

John set the book down.

"And you didn't have our crazy fucking mother. The woman had a blind rage so scary that—"

"Tommy's got a blind rage, too."

"Nah, it's not blind. Tommy's rage is—"

John stopped himself, sitting up and looking at Clara as he turned towards her. Her back faced him and if she hadn't stopped her writing, her head turned out the window, he wouldn't have known how intently she was listening.

"Well, never mind about Tommy. I wanna tell you something else."

Clara turned towards John as she began folding the letter into delicate and precise thirds. "Tell me what?"

"Just come over a sit a minute, will you?"

Clara slid off the chair and crossed the room, sinking onto the bed beside him. John once again wrapped an arm over her shoulders. "If I tell ya, you're bloody sworn to secrecy, yeah? You tuck it away and not one of the others hears of this until I tell them."

Clara nodded.

"Alright then." John rubbed his thumb across his chin. "You know Lizzie, right?"

"Lizzie Stark? Everybody knows Lizzie Stark," Clara answered, picking at her fingers. "Why?"

"You like her?"

Clara nodded once. Clara knew Lizzie Stark. She also knew _why_ everyone in Small Heath knew Lizzie Stark, most of the kids did. The older boys made inappropriate comments when she passed. The men always looked her way. She was one of the ladies that had to do bad things to get her supper and pay for her room. Clara imagined someone had once pulled Lizzie Stark out of school too.

"She dresses nice," was the answer Clara settled on because it was the truth.

"Yeah, but do you like her?"

Clara didn't know Lizzie well but the woman had always shown a certain sweetness to the Watery Lane kids, kicking a ball back if it strayed in front of where she was walking, smiling at them as she passed. She'd even sat with Finn when he twisted an ankle, waiting while Clara ran back home to fetch an adult to handle the situation.

"I think so. She seems nice," Clara decided.

John smiled. "Well, good. I'm gonna ask her to marry me."

"You're gonna ask Lizzie Stark to marry you?"

John clapped a hand over Clara's mouth, grinning at the smile in his sister's eyes.

"You think that'd be alright?"

"Will you be happy?"

"I think so."

"I think being happy is alright."

"I hope the rest of them agree."

"You mean Tommy?"

John settled back against the wall beside Clara's bed and she followed him.

"Seems to be king of the clan these days, doesn't he?"

Clara rested her head on his shoulder. They both took deep breaths and John closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the comfort of Clara's approval. He wished it could all be this easy, that being his being happy could make the rest of it all fall away.

"I should get to Arthur's," John said, lifting his shoulder, nudging Clara to let him up.

"Can you help me clean this first? I told him I'd do it myself but—"

"It'll cost you a biscuit."

Clara smiled, leaning over his legs to the drawer of her nightstand. She handed the crumpled bag to him. "It's mostly crumbs left."

John tilted the bag into his palm before doing the same for Clara. "Good thing we like the crumbs, then."

They tipped their palms into their mouths and John bounded off the bed. "Does Pol know you keep those up here?"

Clara shrugged. She found it hard to believe that there was really anything Polly didn't know about.

"Well, c'mon then, let's get this over with."

Clara stopped herself at the edge of the bed, picking at her quilt. "Is he down there?"

"In the shop, I imagine. C'mon."

John let her climb onto his back, supporting her legs as they descended the stairs. He deposited her on the table while he went for the necessary supplies.

When he returned, Clara had gone all serious in the face. "Maybe we just tell him we cleaned it. He won't know."

John stepped back, leaning into the wall. "Sneaking on roofs and telling lies… Who are you and what have you done with our Clara?"

When she didn't respond, John moved forward, grasping the bottle and tipping it to wet the cloth. He bent over in front of her, holding the rag. "It only stings a minute. You tell me when."

Clara took a deep breath, her hands gripping the edge of the table as she mumbled out a quiet, "Okay."

John pressed the dampened rag to the stitches on his sister's forehead, cradling the back of her head as she pulled away and a hiss escaped her lips. She settled as he pulled the rag away, the cool air meeting her skin as the sting faded.

"Not so bad, was it?" John asked, putting the cap back on the bottle. "You'll have to get used to it if you're gonna be out in the streets scrapping like that."

John cut his laughter short as Tommy stepped through the room, barely sparing them so much as a glance as he headed towards the exit.

John watched the change come over Clara, her near smile switching to a neutral façade as her shoulders slumped.

"Hey now, none of that," John said, reaching his hand out to tickle the spot under her chin. She smiled whether she wanted to or not.


End file.
